


Feels Like The End (But I'm Not Dead)

by runningwithwerewolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Dead Allison Argent, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s03e22 De-Void, Eternal Sterek, F/F, F/M, Good Chris Argent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mentioned Jennifer Blake, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune Trauma, POV Multiple, Pack Bonding, Pack Feels, Polyamory, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resurrected Allison Argent, Resurrection, Transformation, Were-Creatures, Werefox Stiles Stilinski, slow burn sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22952839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwithwerewolves/pseuds/runningwithwerewolves
Summary: Allison’s brilliant smile flashed in his mind, dimples overtaking her cheeks. I miss you. He thought, and I am so sorry, but it’s not over. I’m going to make this right.I'll bring you back. I promise you Allison, this isn't over yet.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Cora Hale/Lydia Martin, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	1. BROKEN

**Author's Note:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !! → Please be aware this has death and PTSD elements throughout. There is a lot of Stiles hating on himself and dealing with nightmares, night terrors, and there will likely be a lot of triggers. So keep that in mind. Also I retell Allison's death, or rather the direct aftermath, so keep a tissue box nearby.
> 
> GUESS WHO'S BACK?! 
> 
> Yes, after literal years, I am back to writing fanfiction! How exciting (and unexpected). No one is more shocked than me, believe me. This fic is one I started like four years ago. I am going back to fix many things, as the original was chalk full of errors. I have no beta, so if there are still issues let me know. And please tell me what you think in the comments below.
> 
> MUSIC YAY! I made a playlist for the story ages ago, here ya go: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5sqRLaUPg0FCErUhEFlxr3

He opened his crusted eyes and shook his head from the fog of sleep just enough to notice the warmth of a body pressed into his. 

“Lydia?” 

The strawberry blonde sobbed quietly into Stiles’ jacket sleeve. He pushed himself up, careful not to disturb her grip on him. His stiff jeans scraped over the floor as he moved from his slumped position. He flexed his right hand, his nimble fingers tingling at the tips as his hands woke from their numb slumber. Stiles pushed forward enough to feel a sharp pain shoot down his neck. He grunted, and put his still tingling hand on Lydia’s head.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

She sniffed, a sickening slurp of mucus before she pressed herself further into his shoulder. Her fingers gripped his sleeve and he could feel her nails dig into his shoulder even through the thick cloth of his jacket.

“Allison.”

She let her long unkempt curls fall against his chest as she pushed her head into him. Stiles couldn’t breathe. His hands gripped a handful of Lydia’s curls tightly. He remembered Lydia scream after he slid down the concrete wall, no longer able to stand, he fell. At first he thought her scream was for him. As he sat there, Lydia shaking against him, crying Allison’s name, he knew what the scream meant.

“No-no, no, no.” He stuttered as the pain cut through him.

Lydia was so scared when they found her, she demanded they tell her who had come with them to save her. She knew Allison wouldn’t stay away. _She knew. Void must have told her his plan, he planned to kill her, why else would she be so afraid of Allison showing up?_ _She wasn’t worried about anyone else, because the Nogitsune was only after Alli._

“Why?” He whispered into the musty air of the long damp tunnel. 

Stiles shook with Lydia; she sobbed loudly and he couldn't hold back his own tears as he watched her fall apart. He cradled his friend and mourned. He knew he had to get up soon, he had to see what had happened with his own eyes. 

“Lydia, we have to go. Scott needs us.”

“Uh-I-I can’t.” 

He wrapped both arms around her body and pulled her into his chest. He cradled her tightly, stroking the back of her head with his cold hands. Trying his best to keep it together, knowing at least one of them had too. Another few minutes passed and Lydia’s sobs were quiet again.

“Lyds, we need to go see Scott. He needs us right now.”

“I-I know,” Lydia pulled back slowly, “Can- can you walk?” She asked him.

“Yeah I think so.” Stiles tried to push off from the ground and realized his left leg was completely asleep, “OK I might need help actually.” 

“Here.” Lydia stood and fixed her skirt before leaning down and putting her arm around Stiles’ waist.

He felt utterly weak, his body frail and thin. His eyes twitched and one of them felt like it was on fire. He resisted the urge to shove his dirty fingers into it, knowing that the ground of the tunnel was probably littered with shit he didn’t even want to think about. 

He pushed from the ground using his fully functional leg and took a deep breath, only to choke out the stale iron air of the decrepit tunnel. Lydia told him to be careful and keep moving and he does as he’s told, letting her pull him up and leaning his weight on her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she gripped his hand in hers.

“Come on, let’s get outside.” She said, huffing out a labored breath before starting off down the seemingly endless tunnel.

Every step was an effort, he could barely breathe and he felt like he hadn’t slept in years. He wanted to stop but his mind was alight with determination. The absence of the Nogitsune in his mind was jarring. Despite the exhaustion the Void bastard had left him with, Stiles was ready to fight. Stiles found a sudden rush of energy which allowed him to speed up his and Lydia’s pace. She was clearly tired, her breathing harsh beside him, but she didn't complain and she never stopped moving. 

Stiles heard a yell ahead and he was sure it was Scott.  _ Not far now.  _ The two sped up and managed to make it to the rusty gate leading to the outside. Lydia pushed open the gate and Stiles cringed as the rusted barred door screeched painfully open. His head was pounding ruthlessly as they stormed through to the outside. 

He nearly cried out as the air hit his fragile body. Lydia stopped to readjust their positions and he thanked her quietly before they were off again. The cold air burned Stiles’ lungs as they rushed the rest of the way to the courtyard. They stopped as they rounded the corner and Stiles nearly fell to the ground with the suddenness of it. He looked at Lydia with a grunt of confusion and he saw her face turn a ghostly white. 

He turned his head slowly, painfully, following Lydia’s wide-eyed gaze. His eyes reached the spot, the place where the huntress had fallen. His best friend was rocking back and forth on the hard, dirty ground. His shirt was torn and his hands were covered in her blood. Allison’s body lay motionless in his arms. He gripped her tight, cradling her lifeless body to him, as though it was all just a dream and if he wished hard enough he’d wake up from his nightmare. 

Before he realized it Stiles was standing alone, watching across the courtyard as Lydia sank to the cement ground next to Allison, her knees scraping across the ground audibly. She sat on her knees and reached down to Allison’s still body with trembling hands to lift up her limp arm from the ground. Stiles watched her pull her friend’s hand to her chest and clasp her fingers around it tightly. 

Scott lifted his head and Stiles could see his face was stained with grime; the only clean parts of his face were his cheeks, where the trails of fresh tears had washed away the dirt. He cried quietly as his eyes met Lydia’s face. She reached out her free hand to him silently. He took it with shaking hands and their entangled fingers fell to rest gently against Allison’s chest.  The cold of the night air sent another chill through Stiles’ weak form. He sucked in a wet breath realizing that tears had been pouring from his eyes without his knowledge. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and put one foot forward, and then one after another he moved, lumbering his aching form toward his friends. 

“Scott…” 

He was nervous of the reaction he might get from his grieving friend. His brother was broken apart into a million tiny pieces and Stiles wanted nothing more than to help him pick them all up and put him back together. But he was afraid he’d hate him.  _ It’s all my fault _ . He’d failed to fight the Nogitsune, he’d let it take over his mind and body, let it kidnap Lydia.  He was the reason they were there. 

He was the reason Allison was dead.

He shivered, his face tightening with fear and anguish, tears pouring from his eyes and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. When he looked up from the ground to meet Scott’s eyes he couldn’t see any anger. He wasn’t furious with Stiles or disappointed by his weakness, he was filled with nothing but sorrow.

“Stiles. I, Allison is…” Scott cracked into an ugly sob and Stiles sank to the ground near Allison’s head, next to Scott.

He placed his shaking hand on Scott’s shoulder and Scott lunged forward at his touch. He grabbed Stiles and pulled him into an awkward side hug. Stiles felt Allison’s head lean into his stomach and he let go. Tears fell from his lashes in a steady stream.  Scott calmed himself after a few minutes and wiped his face down with his jacket sleeve before pulling himself back from Stiles’ chest. Stiles kept his hand firm on Scott’s shoulder and Lydia reached forward to grip Stiles’ other hand tightly. Scott moved back enough to see everyone with wet eyes, then turned his head to stare at Isaac, just out of reach. 

The beta was sitting hunched in on himself, unmoving and silent. Chris Argent had his back to everyone and stood far away from the scene just outside the entrance gates. Stiles’ heart aches as he realized the Nogitsune that wore his face was long gone. Stiles’ face, his hands, his voice, had ordered Allison’s death.  He looked behind Scott to see Kira and her mother hovering near the outskirts of the group. Mrs. Yukimura stroked her daughter's head as Kira shook silently against her. Stiles looked back at Scott to see him staring at Isaac’s back. 

“Isaac.” Scott whispered kindly to the curly haired beta, and he turned his head enough for Stiles to see his profile, “Isaac, I need you.” 

Scott’s voice was stronger than Stiles imagined it could be considering the situation and Isaac must have been surprised by his strength as well because he turned around enough to look his boyfriend in the eyes. Stiles watched in silence as Isaac stood up and stalked over. He took up root at Scott’s left side and sat practically in his lap. Isaac dropped his head onto Scott’s shoulder and Scott tilted his head to rest gently against Isaac’s skull. 

Isaac’s eyes were wet with unshed tears, and Stiles guessed he was still in shock. Stiles was still there himself as he stroked his freezing hands down the back of Allison’s hair. Her beautiful raven locks were soft and still warm under his brittle fingers. Lydia slid closer suddenly, taking up the space between them to wrap her arm around Stiles. Her head fell to rest on his shoulder and he hunched, crumbling his body inward and letting his silent tears fall once more. 

“It’s…” Stiles parted his dry lips. “It’s all my fault!” Stiles admitted and started to sob into Allison’s hair.

“Stiles,” Scott whispered, “Why would you think that?” 

His vision was dim as he shoved his face further into Allison’s silky hair. Of course it was his fault, Allison wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for him, it was his fault.  _ I should be laying there, not her. _

“It should be me. I should be dead!” 

Stiles shook and he could feel Scott gripping his shoulder. Lydia pushed into him and threw her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder again.

“That’s not true.” Isaac said. “It’s not your fault Stiles.” 

“He’s right Stiles. I feel it too - I feel like this is my fault.” Scott confessed, his dark eyes searching the bloodstained ground. Isaac’s hand gripped the back of his boyfriend's neck. “If I’d been faster, or understood Lydia’s message, if I was smarter or stronger than the Nogitsune then she’d still be alive. She’d be here, staring up at me with those dimples, laughing at me for being so worried. Touching my face with her soft hands,” Scott stroked Allison’s pale cheek, and padded his thumb across her bloody lips. “But, she’s gone, and I can’t do anything. I can’t do anything at all.”

“It’s- it’s not your fault either Scott- it isn’t, it's mine.”

“No.” Lydia said, “it’s my fault.”

“What?” Stiles asked.

“If I’d screamed when he took me...but he told me that if I did he’d kill everyone and I believed him. But, if I’d escaped, or just found a way to…”

“No Lydia.” 

The teens looked up, surprised to find Argent standing above them with, his face is stern, emotionless, but his wet eyes betrayed his stoicism. 

“It's the fox’s fault. None of you are to blame. None of you have any reason to feel guilty. It’s the fox’s fault, and he will pay for this.” Argent’s mouth curled into a snarl as he looked around at the teens, but his face softened as his eyes landed on his daughter.

“He needs to die.” Isaac agreed and Stiles nodded at him earning a look of gratitude from the usually snarky beta. He turned to his alpha who was staring at Allison’s lifeless form, “Scott?”

“I don’t...I don’t think we can kill him.”

“Scott, I know you’re a good hearted guy who's sworn to himself not to kill anything, but if there was ever a time…”

“That’s not it Stiles, he’s killed people, and I know he won’t stop. But, what if we kill him and  _ you _ die?”

“But, he separated from me.” Stiles said.

“You two could still be connected.” Lydia said.

Stiles looked at his friends and Scott nodded, a worried but contemplative look on his face. _ Is he really OK with killing Void?  _

“OKwe need to,” Stiles looked down at Allison and his chest tightened, “Allison has to be…”

“She was murdered so she’ll have to go to the morgue.” Lydia whispered.

“I’ll handle it.” Argent replied monotonously, “Isaac, Scott, both of you will have to give statements, and then we’ll decide what to do next together.” 

“What about…” Scott started, glancing at Stiles and Lydia.

“They’ll come with us.” 

Stiles and Scott both turned to see Kira’s mother, Noshiko, had inched forward with her daughter. Kira wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes and Stiles noticed she was carrying her sword haphazardly as she stared at the ground. Argent was silent as he stared at the Elder Kitsune, but after a few seconds of scrutiny he nodded tersely and motioned for Scott and Isaac to stand. Stiles head the wind pick up and stilled to listen to it howl around them.

He straightened his back and swallowed his pain before helping Lydia to her feet. They leaned on each other for support and watched silently as Scott picked up Allison’s body, cradling her carefully in his strong arms. Isaac was right beside him, glued to his shoulder as they made their way to Argent’s car. 

* * *

“Allison’s dead.” 

Lydia pushed her body into Stiles and leaned her head on his shoulder. He took her hand into his lap and weaved his fingers through hers.

“How do you feel, physically?” Mrs. Yukimura asked. 

_ No, Noshiko, she told me to call her by her first name.  _ She placed the tea on the table in front of Lydia and Stiles and took a seat across from them. Stiles swallowed. His mouth tasted like bad breath and metal, and his lips wouldn’t stay wet no matter how much he licked them. He took a breath and met the kitsune’s eyes.

“I feel, OK.”

“Liar.” Derek entered the room behind Kira’s dad.

“Derek.”

The alpha met his eyes and subtly smiled, his eyes soft and sympathetic. Stiles looked away, guilt ridden and in pain. Derek moved across the room to take up the space on the other side of Stiles. Kira was on the other couch with her mother and Ken had taken up the comfortable looking chair to their left. 

“Where’s Cora?” Lydia asked curiously and Derek met her eyes.

“She’s with Scott and Isaac. They’re all safe.”

Derek leaned toward Stiles, and reached out his hands. He caught Stiles eyes.

“Can I?” 

“What?” He saw Derek’s hands reach for his, “Oh, yeah sure.”

Derek’s face was unreadable as he gripped Stiles’ hand under his.  _ Derek Hale is cuddling me and holding my hand. _ Stiles choked the feelings of warmth building in his chest. He didn't deserve to feel good. Her didn’t deserve to be happy. Not when Allison couldn’t feel that way. She couldn’t be hugged or have her hand held.

She couldn’t feel anything at all. 

Stiles was wordless and careful to keep his face blank as he watched the black veins leech from his hand into Derek’s. The alpha winced, and kept his eyes closed until he was done taking Stiles pain. 

“Better?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, thanks.” He flicked his eyes up to meet Derek’s for a second before looking back down at the rug, “Uh, to answer your question, I kind of feel like I’m dying.” 

Lydia stirred from her comfortable position on Stiles shoulder, “What?”

“It’s OK though, I mean, I feel better than I did before. It’s just, I think Void sucked away all my energy and I haven’t gotten it back just yet.” 

“Void?” Noshiko raised her brows at him and he shrugged one shoulder in short reply. 

“I call him that, because it doesn’t have a name.” Stiles said, “can you just tell me whatever you know. I mean, now that he’s separated from me, what happens?”

“He has been leeching your pain, feeding on you for months. However, now that he is strong enough to claim a duplicate of your body for himself, he will be nearly unstoppable.” Noshiko replied.

“Nearly. Which means there’s a chance.” Derek said.

“How do we stop him?” Lydia perked up, looking to Noshiko with the kind of determination she used to have, before Peter... _ before everything. _

“The scroll you received from Argent’s friend…”

“The scroll!” Kira shouted, “If we change the host then I can kill him, right?”

“Yes, and it will not kill you Stiles. He may still be connected to you on a certain level, but even if he were to die right now, you would not follow him.”

“You sound sure about that.” Derek said.

After Boyd and Erica died, Derek was pretty messed up. Angrier and sadder than they’d seen him.  _ Which is saying something.  _ Scott went to Derek and told him that Erica and Boyd needed to be avenged, and the Alphas needed to go down. Despite all of the bad blood between them, Derek actually agreed to Scott’s plan. Now, Derek listened to Scott’s advice, and vice versa. They worked together, hell, Derek even built a friendship with Allison and Lydia. They’d all grown over time and now they were actually friends. More than that, they were a pack. The alpha’s presence once used to scare Stiles, but so much had happened and they’d all come so far together. 

The more he thought about it, the more he was grateful that Derek was there with them. He felt Derek’s warmth as he sat on the couch arm, and Stiles moved closer; his shoulder against Derek’s leg. 

“This is not the first time I have met him, in fact it is not the first time I have had to deal with a Yako.”

“Yako?” Stiles asked, “Is that it’s name?”

“No.” Noshiko said, “The dark fox goes by many names. I don’t know it’s true name, or if it has one. ”

“You have met this thing before?” Kira asked. 

Stiles let the conversation fade from his senses, ignoring the rest of the room to contemplate. 

_ I might survive this after all. But what about everyone else? _


	2. ARROWS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I knew you couldn’t do it.” The fox’s snide voice engaged his focus and he stared down at it, “Stiles’ face, Stiles’ body, you can’t kill me. You can’t kill him.” 
> 
> “Scott do it!” Stiles yelled furiously behind him.
> 
> He had to do it. People would die, more people would be broken and hurt if he didn’t do this. For his mom, for his best friend…for Allison.

Scott stepped out of the SUV, the crunch of the gravel under his feet. He shut the car door and headed straight for the clinic entrance. Isaac at his side and Argent leading. He listened to the steady beat of Argent’s heart and felt easier knowing he was there. Isaac intertwined his fingers with Scott’s and he smiled at his boyfriend. He breathed out and listened in to Cora saying her hellos’ to Deaton inside and he smiled, finding himself comforted by her presence. 

Argent opened the ash gate and the wolves walked past him and headed for the back room. 

“Chris, Scott and Isaac. I am so very sorry.” 

“Thanks Deaton.” Scott Said.

Scott couldn't talk about it, he couldn’t even think about it. They had too much to focus on. The Nogitsune had to be stopped, and if he took even a second to think about the depth of his grief, he would break apart. He would be useless to her, again. 

Scott straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. Issac untangled their gingers and let Scott move forward. The place reeked of dogs, cats, birds and so much animal feed, litter and medicine that it made him nauseous. Scott took a deep breath and put his hands on the cold steel table in the middle of the room letting the smells and sounds of the room fall away to a tolerable level. 

He looked up to see Deaton waiting quietly for Scott to speak, and he thanked him wordlessly for being his usual patient self. Cora was leaning against the table behind Deaton with a sour look on her face as though she was in physical pain. Scott gave her a smile, and was surprised to see her return a smirk.

He glanced at Argent who was standing stoically to his left, he seemed to be waiting for Scott to speak.

“OK,” Scott looked back at Deaton, “Stiles sent me a text a minute ago telling me that Noshiko knows what we have to do. She said that we have to change the host, so one of us, either me or Derek has to bite the Nogitsune and then Kira can kill him with her sword. Also, Derek said something about trapping the body of the fly in a box. He said you’d know what he meant?”

“He was referring to the urn that Derek and Peter retrieved from the Calavera’s. It can be used to secure a Nogitsune's true form, once it's dead.”

“A fly. That’s his true form?” Cora asked.

“Yes.” 

“Well, we know what to do with the Nogitsune then. But what about the Oni?” Scott asked, “We’ve tried knives, bullets, our claws...nothing seems to even slow them down.”

Deaton crossed his arms, “Sunlight seems to dissipate them, but it’s likely the fox will hide during the daytime to avoid being ambushed.”

“We can’t afford to wait.” Scott sighed.

“The arrowhead Allison used…” Issac said. “She killed one of them using the arrowheads and I think I know how. Argent?” He turned to the hunter.

“You have an idea?” Argent asked, and Isaac nodded to him before turning back to Scott.

“I’ll go with Argent to their house. I might be wrong, but I have to go check.”

“Whatever you can do. Just be careful.” 

Scott squeezed Isaacs hand and he smiled back leaning in to kiss Scott. He pulled back enough to lean his forehead into Scott’s for a few seconds. As he pulled away, their hands parted and Isaac followed Argent toward the exit. 

“Isaac!” Scott called out and Isaac turned to look at him, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He gave Scott one of his crooked smiles and turned to gesture to Argent. 

They left the clinic without another word and Scott listened intently as Argent’s car drove away.

“You guys are sickening.” Cora said.

Scott smiled at her before looking back to Deaton, “So, Derek has the urn?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before him and Cora’s heads both shot toward the entrance to the clinic. Scott listened to tires roll over gravel, then a door closes and careful footsteps crunch gravel. The front door opens and a bell dings. 

“Peter?” Scott asked, knowing Peter would hear him.

“Yes Scott. If one of you would have the Druid open the gate for me, I’d appreciate it.” 

“Uncle Peter’s here, he needs past the mountain ash gate.” Cora said.

“Of course.” Deaton replied. He headed for the gate and soon after returned to the back room.

“I figure you might want this?” Peter entered behind the doctor, and lifted his arm to reveal the urn clutched under his fingers.

“Did Derek send you to give that to Scott?” Cora asked.

“Yes he did. He said Cora, Derek and I could handle the Oni, with  _ Argent’s _ help. And you and the others could handle the fox.” 

Scott doesn’t miss the slight pause in Peter’s voice when he said Argent’s name and he wonders if he still secretly harbors resentment; or if it’s something else that’s bothering him. 

Ever since they’d saved Jackson and he’d left for London, Peter had been around. It was hard at first, for everyone. No one trusted him, Derek least of all, but Peter swore he wanted nothing more than to be a part of Derek’s pack and teach him all he could about alpha traditions and abilities. 

It took a lot of time, effort, and a calculated wolfsbane poisoning at Lydia’s hands before they actually began to trust the former alpha. Still, Argent and Stiles both said that he couldn’t really be trusted. Scott figured that was Argent’s history with the wolf and Stiles’ paranoia talking. And Scott, despite their history, had forgiven Peter for what he’d done and had actually started to form a bond with the wolf.  _ No one is more surprised about that than me. _

“That should work.” Scott answered.

“What about the twins?” Cora asked.

“You don’t know. That’s right, you and Derek left to travel before they left. They decided to go off and search for another pack. Derek actually called up to a pack in Michigan and got them a place there.” Scott answered. 

“Derek did that?” 

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Cora shrugged. 

Peter handed the urn to the young alpha, and gave him a strange look. Peter did that often, so Scott wasn’t too worried about it at first. But Peter continued staring, and Scott looked back at him for a moment.

“What is it Peter?” 

The elder Hale blinked, “Nothing. Though, actually, I wanted to say I am sorry for your loss.”

Scott saw Cora’s wide-eyed expression from the corner of his eye and he mimicked the look. Then it dawned on Scott. Peter lost two children in the Hale house fire, and his wife years before, not to mention multiple nephews, nieces and a sister. If anyone could understand Scott’s loss, it was Peter.

Scott sighed quietly, holding back tears at the thought of Allison.

“Thank you.” He whispered. 

Peter lowered his head in a nod and gestured to the urn, “You do know what to do with that don’t you?” 

“We kill the Nogitsune and then place his body in the urn, nothing to it.”

Peter smirked, “You sure are confident.” 

“No, I’m determined. I’m going to kill him, no matter what. He has to be stopped, not just for Allison, but for everyone he’s hurt. We can’t let this continue; I can’t let it continue.” Scott clenched his jaw.

“So, what are we waiting for?” Cora replied.

“Isaac and Argent.” Scott stated and Peter groaned so quietly at Scott’s words that he barely caught it.

The sound had both Cora and Scott looking at him in surprise. Peter noticed them staring and he raised a brow, feigning confusion.

“What?” 

* * *

Peter was outside keeping an eye on the surrounding area and Deaton was mixing herbs hoping to speed up Stiles' healing process when Scott got a text.. He pushed off of the metal table and Cora perked up across from him.

**_To_ ** _ : Scott _

**_From_ ** _ : Isaac _

_ We found more → 's Allison made a few silver ones. That’s the secret, that’s how we kill them. I’m heading back to you. _

“What is it?” Cora crowded Scott, the scent of pine flooded his nostrils as she read over his shoulder.

“Isaac found more of the arrowheads Allison made. He said she killed the Oni with it right before…”

Cora nodded, “Is he heading here?”

**_From_ ** _ : Scott _

**_To_ ** _ : Isaac _

_ Great, get back quickly. We have the urn and everyone is ready to go. _

**_To_ ** _ : Scott _

**_From_ ** _ : Isaac _

_ See you soon. _

“Yeah. He’s on his way.”

Deaton entered the room just as Scott placed the phone on the counter. The doctor’s hands were full with a few small jars. He walked across to the wolves and set the jar on the table just as Peter returned. Scott waited for Peter to enter the room before speaking.

“Allison, she found a way to kill the Oni. Isaac and Argent have her silver arrowheads and they’re on their way back now.”

“That is a relief.” Deaton said.

Scott looked at the jars he was placing on the table,“What are those for exactly?”

“These two,” He gestured to a very small jar of green-blue powder and a larger jar full of what looks like dirt and colorful dried leaves, “Are for healing, and this one,” He picked up the final jar, a dark red liquid, and if Scott didn’t know better he’d say it was blood, “is for Stiles’ energy once the Nogitsune is dead. He must drink half a cup of it, no more than that, once a day for three weeks.” 

“Smells like shit.” Cora sneered.

“Hm, yes it’s not pleasant. But, it will help him recover his strength.”

“Great.” Scott said. 

Deaton stepped out for a few seconds only to return with a small brown satchel with a thick leather strap. He placed all three jars inside, taking great care with the large red liquid, then handed the bag to Scott.

“Great, thanks. Will Stiles know what to do with the first two things or do I need instructions?” 

“Stiles should know, but I put instructions on the backs of the jars labels just in case.”

“What is this for?” Peter leaned down eyeing the blood colored liquid.

“Most of these are for energy, and magical rejuvenation. The red liquid has one specific use however. To dispel heinous energies.”

“You mean...you think the Nogitsune would possess him again?” Scott asked.

“No. Now that he has a body of his own he is more powerful than ever. However, once you trap his true form, he will be weak again. And he will attempt to seek a body at all costs. Within the urn he will not be able to.”

“But you’re not so sure that will last forever, are you?” Peter suggested.

“I have my doubts. This is for good measure.” He gestured to the crimson liquid. “My back up plan to protect Stiles, and in turn the rest of us.” 

“Can the fox only possess Stiles?” Scott asked.

“Didn’t it control Isaac, and the twins too?”

Deaton nodded, “Yes it can take brief control over others, but as far as I can tell it needs a permanent host first, like Stiles. And no, he can possess anyone human, not just Stiles. Though it tends to go after people with magic. I have been consuming this liquid for awhile, so I am safe from possession, but there are others in Beacon Hills we should watch out for.”

Scott perked up at the sound of a car. “That must be them.” 

Scott gestured for Peter and Cora to head out first and was right behind them, when Deaton grabbed his elbow.

“Scott, if anything happens tonight - if anyone is injured, bring them here right away. I will be prepared to help.”

“Thank you Dr. Deaton.”

“I know, I know I haven’t been the best mentor since you were bitten, and I have kept many things from you.” He let go of Scott’s arm, “But, after what happened, all of the death. I must change. I will be more open, and helpful. I will try at least.” Deaton gave him a toothless smile.

“Thanks, really. And, we’ll be careful.” He turned to walk out, then turned back, “Deaton, we don’t know what the fox is planning. Stay on alert OK?”

“I will.”

Scott headed outside and greeted Isaac with a quick kiss. He raised the satchel over his head and let it fall, securing it across his back before getting into the back of the Argent’s SUV with Isaac. The hunter offered the other two wolves a ride and though Cora seems inclined to accept, Peter pulled her towards his own car.

“We’ll follow you.” Cora groaned, and got into her Uncle's car.

_ It’s almost time.  _ Scott thought _ , The Nogitsune is going to die tonight; no matter what. He will be stopped. _

  
  


* * *

Chris clutched his crossbow grip and pushed the stock into his shoulder. His gaze lingered on the shiny silver tipped arrow positioned in the barrel. He glared at the school ahead, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. 

“You ready?” He called over to Derek as he exited his sleek Camaro. 

The alpha’s eyes flashed red and he nodded. Peter and Cora parked next to Derek’s car and Chris found himself smirking at the former alpha’s safe looking, affordable Focus. 

Peter lifted one arm revealing his long sharp claws to the pale moonlight. “I’m ready to kill something. What about you Derek?” 

The older wolf glanced to his right and Chris followed his gaze to see Derek shudder and convulse. He turned to reveal his hybrid form. His eyes popped open to expose his gleaming crimson eyes. He dropped open jaw to drop open, revealing sharp fangs.

“What do you think?” Derek’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Let’s go.” Cora said, drawing Chris’ attention to her.

He watched her eyes close and she convulsed much like her brother; in seconds she’s in her beta hybrid form, her fangs extended and she growled quietly.

“And you Christophe, I imagine you’re prepared for the battle ahead?” Peter asked drawing Chris’ eyes to him, his tone is honeyed and remarkably calm. 

Chris groaned, “Let’s move out.” 

  
  
  
  


He dropped his arm and tucked away his cell phone after allowing Derek to read over his shoulder. Scott’s text was a shock to say the least, but Chris hoped that Scott’s determination to kill the Nogitsune would only be strengthened by the news of his mother’s injuries at the hospital. Melissa was alive, but the Oni’s poison was taking its toll. If they didn’t take out the fox soon, she and the other victim’s would surely die.

Chris was amazed by the fox’s nerve. Attacking a hospital and killing dozens of people just to cause havoc. He must have a plan, an endgame. What it was, was anyone’s guess.  _ Doesn’t matter,  _ Chris thought.  _ Whatever it has planned won’t be fulfilled. That monster dies tonight. _

He received another text and let the Hales know that Deaton was sure that all those cut by the blade of an Oni will be cured once the Oni are dead. Scott sent them all the go ahead to start their battle with the dark ninja and Argent moved forward. Body and soul driven toward the school, where he knew the fox was waiting. 

Argent and the Hales entered the school courtyard. Derek and Argent were side by side leading the group while Cora and Peter watched their backs. Derek nodded to Chris to take a side staircase and he nodded back, disconnecting from the group to cover them from a higher vantage point. He’d given Derek and Peter each a silver tipped arrowhead and kept the remaining three for himself. 

He stalked along the frosted grass, the dark sky clear above. The light of the moon was bright enough that he didn’t need to focus too much on where he was going. He stayed as silent as he could as he reached his destination; which was a great vantage point behind the Oni and the Nogitsune and above the stairs leading to the school building. He watched silently, aiming his crossbow at the back of one of the Oni’s heads. He couldn’t angle a shot at the fox from there, but he knew their purpose here wasn’t to kill the fox. As much as he wished otherwise, he knew only Scott or Derek could change the host body, and Kira would be the one to deliver the final blow. 

_ As long as he dies. Doesn’t matter who kills him. _

The Oni were statues as they guarded their fox master. Their dark energy shifted and danced around their motionless forms and he wanted nothing more than to attack. Chris tightened his grip around his bow and pushed the stock into his shoulder firmly. His quick eyes darted past his view of the Oni to land on the approaching Hale trio. The wolves glowing eyes pierced through the shadow of the underpass, and the darkness fell away as they ascended from the hollow path. 

“A failed alpha, his lost little sister and a zombie wolf. What a strange,  _ sad _ little team.” The Nogitsune mocked as he dat perched on the stairs, wearing Stiles’ face, his ninja at his sides.

The Oni’s blades glistened under the moonlight. 

Peter’s smirk rose where he stood behind his nephew; Derek had promoted him to second in command recently and the former alpha took his place at his nephew’s right side with newfound confidence. All three Hale’s had the shadow of the night at their backs and their claws at the ready.

“We came here to kill you, so send your shadows to battle. After we’re done with them,  _ you're next _ .” Derek growled the last two words and let out a low howl.

Peter shifted into his hybrid form beside him and Cora let out an excited roar. Chris watched the Oni shift into their fighting stances, perfect mirrors of each other they speed forward and the battle erupts. 

Derek launched himself into the air and tackled the Oni closest to him, tumbling them both to the ground. He gave the dark ninja no time to react as he slashed his claws across the shadow's chest uselessly. He realized his mistake soon after as the Oni slashed at him with his ninjato. He grazed the alpha’s arm but Derek cut upward just in time to pull the ninja’s sword from his hand. 

Chris was surprised he was able to relive the creature from his weapon, and he watched it clank to the ground a few feet away. He looked back and saw Derek with his arm raised ready to slash down at the Oni again, but before he could the Oni was gone. He searched the ground and balled his clawed hands over the empty space below him. Chris didn’t see where the Oni went, and turned his attention on the Oni Cora was tangling with. He lands a perfect hit square in the creature's back. 

The wound glowed a pale golden yellow before pulsing twice and shattered the Oni into the air. The Oni dissolved into the night and the used arrowhead fell to the ground. Cora picked it up as another Oni appeared to her left. She saw him too late, and he slashed his blade into her shoulder. She jumped back with a startled howl but continued to hold her own against the creature alongside her uncle. 

Chris soon realized he couldn’t make the shot against that Oni and instead searched for Derek. He found him still on the ground, his head staring at his pack. Derek pushed into a crouch and growled lowly, ready to spring on the creature the moment he had an opening.

“Derek!” Chris shouted, watching as a shadowy figure materialized behind the alpha.

He spun bow in the direction of the being, but he crouched down and attained his blade so quickly Chris missed his chance to shoot. Derek spun around, his alpha eyes bright in the dim light of the moon. He pulled the arrow Chris gave him from his jacket and sprang from the ground and onto the Oni’s chest. 

Derek drove the arrowhead into the Oni’s chest with a feral look on his wolfish face. The Oni’s wound started to glow and Derek leapt away to watch the creature erupt and dissolve into the air. He turned on his heel and yelled at Cora. She dodged in time to avoid the slash of another Oni. Derek was at her side in seconds and they attacked together in a series of savage slashes. Despite their injuries, they did not let up until the Oni fell, an arrow in his chest.

Chris turned his attention to Peter and watched as he tackled the other Oni to the ground. He ripped away the ninja’s mask and drove his arrow into the void of shadow where the creatures face would be. He reeled back and from Chris’ vantage point he saw the brilliant golden glow at the edges of the ninja’s dark hood twist and gleam before a soundless explosion caused his form to dissolve into the air. The remaining shadows of the creature dissipated into the cement, disappearing like smoke into the cracks of the ground. 

Peter turned away and jumped in to slash at the final Oni alongside his nephew and niece. Derek distracted the Oni as Cora retrieved her dropped arrow from the ground and from her crouched position she drove upward into the Oni’s lower back. Chris saw her twist the arrowhead further in as she howled. Derek yelled for her to get back and she did so. The Oni exploded soundlessly; the pieces of his shadow dissolved into the air. 

“Now it’s your turn.” Derek turned around to see the fox was gone from his perch. “Shit.”

Chris took his time heading down the stairs, notching another silver arrowhead into the barrel of his crossbow as he descended to meet the wolves. He stopped only a few feet away and situated his bows stock on his thigh. He used both hands to pull back the string, preferring to keep his weapon at the ready. 

He looked down to see where the enemy Oni Peter vanquished once laid. He raised a brow at the shaft of the arrow which was lodged in the ground. He knew the wolf was strong, but he had no idea Peter was capable of such force. He’d driven the arrow through the cement, made a hole in the concrete with nothing but sheer physical strength. 

“What now?” Cora asked, her voice breathy. 

“Now we meet up with Scott, we have to make sure the Nogitsune dies.” Derek answered.

“That slippery little fox won’t get out of this school alive.” Peter said, a devilish grin spread across his face. 

The team made quick work of the stairs and they were opening the double doors to the school in no time. 

Chris had spent the previous few hours crafting more silver arrowheads for everyone to fight with in case there were more Oni than they expected, and he’d given Scott and Isaac one each on the ride to the school.  _ I just hope it’s enough. _

  
  


* * *

“Scott!” 

The young alpha spun around after the shadowy figure dissolved, destroyed before him. He saw Isaac dodging an Oni’s blade and raced toward the struggle. He slid across the ground, picked up the arrowhead that Isaac dropped earlier, and slashed at the Oni’s ankles to distract him as he underhandedly tossed the arrow to Isaac. He suffered a shallow slash to his chest so Isaac could deliver the finishing blow into the Oni’s neck. 

After the Oni’s remains dissolve into the ground Scott allowed himself a few seconds of heavy breathing before standing up to face the Nogitsune. 

The fox’s expression was purely malicious as it stood at the end of the hall. It had thrown Kira clear and Scott hoped she wasn’t hurt, but his main concern was Stiles and Lydia who were fleeing backwards in fear of the fox’s approach. The demon was yelling about his immortality.  __

“I’m a thousand years old. YOU CAN’T KILL ME.”

Its words didn’t scare Scott, they only served to harden his resolve. He charged forward, passing Stiles and Lydia to tackle the fox. The dark spirit punched Scott hard in the stomach, but the young wolf didn’t let go. He held the fox in place as he continuously pelted Scott with harsh blows to his gut and jaw. Stiles called his name and Lydia screeched behind him. Through the pain Scott looked down to see the menacing, crooked smile on the face of his friend. 

“Scott, remember what I told you!” Stiles yelled from behind him. 

_ The fox isn't Stiles.  _ The Nogitsune and Stiles shared a face, but he had to kill him.  _ No matter what.  _

Scott heard Isaac growl and he looked up to see Derek rush through the doors ahead of them. Cora ran to Kira’s fallen form and Scott heard her say the other fox was still alive. Scott held the dark fox down, it roared viciously in his face and Scott punched his smirking mouth. Just as he thought the fox was down, helpless against them, he felt a warm rush of air pass him and watched Peter, Argent and Derek charge a new swarm of Oni. 

_ It won’t stop, they’ll just keep coming. _

“I knew you couldn’t do it.” The fox’s snide voice engaged his focus and he stared down at it, “Stiles’ face, Stiles’ body, you can’t kill me. You can’t kill him.” 

“Scott do it!” Stiles yelled furiously behind him.

He had to do it. People would die, more people would be broken and hurt if he didn’t do this. For his mom, for his best friend… _ for Allison. _

Scott let out a throaty yell and slashed downward at the fox’s exposed throat. The squelch of ripping skin invaded his ears, and warm liquid soaked his claws. He wanted to throw up. But he had no time for that. He knew the fox wasn’t dead, that the fly inside it was still clinging to life. They had to finish it, but without Kira he couldn’t. Scott looked up and opened his eyes to see Cora bringing Kira to her feet.

He forced himself to look then, to stare into the bloody remnants of the fox’s throat. Stiles’ dead eyes stared back at him. The creature coughed and blood spurted from its cracked lips. Kira walked over and gasped as she saw the fox’s throat torn open. Scott met her eyes and she offered him an empathetic smile. Scott felt the grip of the fox’s cold fingers rise up to his wrist and its hold on Scott tightened.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled.

He felt the sharp burn of a blade and groaned. He looked down to see bony pale fingers wrapped tightly around a black hilt. He gripped the hand under his and stared into the completely black eyes of the Nogitsune. 

“You can’t kill me.” The fox spit the words.

Scott watched in horror as the ripped flesh of the fox’s throat began to close. The Nogitsune twisted the blade in Scott’s stomach and grinned before ripping it out.

“Ugh-ahh!” Scott yelled. 

His stomach was on fire and he had both hands over the wound, staunching the blood flow the best he could.  _ I won’t die here.  _

“I won’t let you win!” Scott yelled. 

He lurched forward as the fox tried to wriggle out of reach. The alpha used his remaining strength to pull the Nogitsune to the floor. The fox slashed at Scott’s chest, but the determined alpha bit back the urge to scream and pulled the squirming fox to him, gripping his bicep tightly he sank his fangs into the cloth and found the fox’s tender flesh. He tasted the hot iron of its blood and listened to the creature’s screams. It punched Scott’s ribs and is about to stab him again when Peter comes out of nowhere to rip the fox out from under Scott’s fangs and throw him into the lockers across the hall. 

The fox grunted as it met the ground and Scott stared up at Peter with wide eyes. The older wolf turned and looked down at him, his eyes glowing blue. He held out his hand and Scott took it and let the wolf haul him to his feet.

Kira and Derek crowded the dark fox. Derek boxed him in from the right, while Kira readied her blade. The fox lurched toward Derek, but the alpha was ready for the fox’s strength this time and dodged its blow. He gripped its bleeding arm and spun him around to push it face first into the lockers. Kira didn’t waste the opportunity, and as Derek jumped clear she thrusted her katana through the fox’s back. Kira pulled out the blade in one quick movement and Scott clenched his teeth as the blade pulled free from the shredded metal of the locker with a long piercing screech.

Isaac walked over, his breath labored and his shirt soaked in blood. He gripped Scott’s free hand and stared at the fox as he slid to the ground. His blood streaked the blue lockers orange, and the smell of iron was thick in the air. 

Derek grabbed its shoulder and spins the dying fox around to face them. The creature’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream and a fly fled his mouth. Scott was about to run forward and try to stop the fly from escaping but he felt someone from behind him rush past, a cold wind chasing their storming figure. Stiles leapt forward and caught the fly in the triskele urn.

“I caught it? I caught it!” Stiles yelled in triumph spinning around too quickly to grin at everyone, he stumbled but held his ground.

A loud cracking sound caught the room’s attention and they turned to watch as black cracks spread over the fox’s face and it fell. When its body hit the floor it broke apart as if he was made of ashes all along. 

“It's dead.” Argent whispered to himself.

Scott heard a scream and turned to see Stiles fall to the floor. “Stiles? Stiles!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 2! I will be uploading every Monday or Tuesday from now on, until the story has concluded ;D Remember to give kudos and comment if you like it!


	3. SHADOWS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles didn’t notice he was crying until his father started rubbing his back and telling him to let it out. He fell against his father’s chest and squeezed his bicep like a lifeline. He let the tears that had been welling in his chest fall from his eyes, and soon enough they were pouring like an unstoppable river. He sobbed uselessly against his dad’s chest and he hugged his son tighter still. 
> 
> “I’m so sorry…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Stiles sobbed into his father’s shirt sleeve apologizing for crimes he could never redeem.

The darkness surrounded him. Thick bodied black snakes wrapped around his legs, binding him in place. The snakes weaved themselves up his body, twisting around his arms and chest until he could barely breathe. He tried to scream, but a snake crawled over his windpipe and squeezed. He watched from above, disembodied. Helpless, as a scared and panicking version of himself was choked by slithering reptiles with blank white eyes. 

  
  


The space around him was a black empty place, the air thick and heavy. He watched himself as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried again to scream or move his arms. But the snakes around his arms prevented him from moving. He struggled and whined, tears streaming down his face.

  
  


_ You deserve this. _

  
  


A whisper reached his ears,  _ you deserve this.  _ The voice echoed through the void. The observing version of himself gazed at his still squirming form and watched as the snakes began to loosen and the trapped version of himself opened his eyes again. He screamed, but nothing emerged from his throat, and a black ink overtook his eyes.

Soon the whites of his eyes were engulfed. He was hollow. He was Void.

* * *

  
  


Stiles jolted from the bed, his heart racing under his flesh. He looked around the room and didn't see anyone or anything creeping around. He took a long slow breath and let himself calm down.  _ It was just another night terror. That’s it. _

  
  


After a few minutes he pulled himself from his bed and his feet touched the cold carpet. He rubbed a hand down his face and came back with a wet hand, covered in cold sweat. He stood with a sigh and headed out of his dark bedroom. The hallway was never pitch black. His dad made sure of that when Stiles had started screaming himself awake.  _ Guess he was tired of running into walls trying to get to my room.  _

  
  


Stiles walked down the semi-lit hallway in a daze. His feet lumbering his half-awake body into the dim bathroom. He flipped on the light and stared. The bathtub/shower was spotless and white. He blinked and it was filled with blood, up to the brim. His eyes widened and his lips parted. He tensed as the blood bubbled. Pale white fingers peaked out of the blood, slow and steady they reached for the lip of the tub. 

  
  


He couldn’t move. He closed his eyes and started breathing slowly, trying to calm himself.

  
  


“Just a dream, just a dream. It’s not real.”

  
  


He heard the sloshing of blood and water as it hit the linoleum. A voice whispered his name. He didn’t open his eyes. 

  
  


“It’s not real. It’s not real.” 

  
  


_ “STILES.” _

  
  


“Go away. Please...please stop.”

  
  


He listened to a barefoot hit the floor, then another. Then rancid breath hit his face.

  
  


_ “STILES. LET. ME. IN.” _

“Shut up. You’re not real.”

  
  


The breathing dissipated, and soon he felt the presence before him fade. He wasn’t dreaming, but it wasn’t real.  _ Hallucinations, really?  _

  
  


He opened one eye and sighed. The tub was white, empty and sterile clean like it should be. Like Stiles had intended when he stayed up all those nights cleaning. It wasn't just research and staring at the computer screen until his eyes watered and stung. Sometimes he had to get away from the research and clear his brain, so he cleaned. He’d stay up until the sun came up. His dad would get up for work and head down the hall to peer into the bathroom to see Stiles on his knees with rubber gloves, scrubbing down the tub with ajax. 

  
  


He sighed again and headed for the toilet.  _ Nature calls _ . Even in the midst of everything, human nature and bodily functions don’t cease. He had to chuckle to stop himself from screaming. As his evening coffee binge drained into the toilet he remembered two nights prior to his current night terror. 

  
  


He’d had a similar dream, only more bloody and involving the bodies of his entire pack. Scott, Lydia, Derek, his dad, everyone was dead. And there he was standing in the middle of the gruesome circle of his dead friends, his hands and clothes soaked in their blood. His emotionless Oni guarding the circle, their blades stained in red dark liquid. His eyes were black. Void.

  
  


He’d screamed himself out of that nightmare and watched in a daze of fear as his father barreled into the room to wrap himself around Stiles’ wriggling, wailing form. He held his son firmly, wrapping his strong warm arms around him. He had whispered to him, his tone calm and soothing as he told him that he was alright, he was awake and he had nothing to be scared of. 

  
  


Stiles tucked himself into his pants and moved to the sink. He washed his hands thoroughly then leaned down to splash his face with the cold water.  _ Two months later and I’m still not so sure he’s gone. _ Void was gone, but his echo was still here. Still haunting him. 

  
  


He splashed his face again then straightened his back and let the cool water drip down his throat. His eyes shut tight, enjoying the chill feeling of being  _ awake _ that the water provides. He thought his dad was wrong. He isn’t OK. And sometimes he thought he never would be. He was scared to tell anyone that, like saying the words would make it true. The fox was still with him, maybe not in his head or his body, but in his dreams, he haunts him every night with his emptiness. Those black eyes, his sharp teeth and crooked smirk. He felt like he’d never truly be free. 

  
  


It had been two months since Allison’s funeral, since Void was killed and Stiles nightmares were worse than ever. Every night he died and was reborn as a monster. Stiles wanted to stay positive, to move on, but how could he? He was terrified that the Nogitsune would come back somehow, that he’d worm his way inside his head again and he wouldn’t be able to stop him a second time. 

  
  


Most of all he was afraid he might  _ let it _ happen. That he would fall into the darkness and  _ enjoy it _ . That wasn’t even the worst of it. The power or the control he felt when Void took him over, the greed he felt, no, it was the dreams of Allison that really got to him. He had nightmares about her death all the time. He’d be at home or walking around town and suddenly she would appear like a shadow from the ground.

  
  


She would always be pale, wearing a tattered white dress, like the one they buried her in. She would always look at him accusingly and tell him what he feared the most.

  
  


It was his fault. He should be dead, not her.

  
  


He knew it was true, if he could switch places with her he would. He was the reason she was dead.

  
  


He sighed and dropped his head. He opened them and was about to grab some Adderall for abuse. No way he was sleeping tonight. But when his eyes met the mirror they were black. He leaned in, and his eyes were gone. Hollow and black, glassy like the mirror. The light overhead cast a small reflecting light in the massive orbs of shadow that overtook his eyes.

  
  


“No. NO! NO!” He shouted over and over and his father came running down the hall.

  
  


“Stiles? Son, what is it?”

  
  


Stiles shook violently, his knuckles as white as the porcelain sink he gripped in terror. He turned his head toward his father and hopes it’s just a dream.  _ A persistent determined dream _ . The sharp intake of breath and wide eyes of his father didn’t give him hope. He pulled away from the sink and he couldn't breathe. His whole body shook violently and he couldn’t move his fingers. 

  
  


“No NO!”

  
  


“Stiles, Stiles!” His father reached forward and pulled his son to him,“Just close your eyes, it’s OK. I’ve got you. Just close your eyes!”

  
  


Stiles didn’t notice he was crying until his father started rubbing his back and telling him to let it out. He fell against his father’s chest and squeezed his bicep like a lifeline. He let the tears that had been welling in his chest fall from his eyes, and soon enough they were pouring like an unstoppable river. He sobbed uselessly against his dad’s chest and he hugged his son tighter still. 

“I’m so sorry…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Stiles sobbed into his father’s shirt sleeve apologizing for crimes he could never redeem. 

  
  


“Oh son.” His father whispered, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  
  


“Yes I do! I’m not human anymore. I can feel it dad. he’s still there, he’s not possessing me but he’s still there. I can’t get rid of him. I can't forget and I can’t- I just can’t do this.” Stiles sucked in a wet breath. 

  
  


“Stiles, we can talk to Deaton. We'll figure this out. We will figure out what’s wrong with your eyes I promise.”

  
  


“What if it’s permanent? What if I’m a monster?” Stiles pulled from his father’s embrace and stared at the floor. His father still had his hand on his back and his body blocked the exit. 

  
  


“You are not a monster. Stiles, look at me.” 

  
  


His eyes danced over the floor. It was strange. His vision was perfect, maybe even a little better than before. But he knew his eyes were still black, he could  _ feel _ it. 

  
  


“Son. Look at me, please.”

  
  


He took a breath, shut his eyes, then lifted his eyes and opened them again.

His father smiled, “See, you’re not a monster.”

  
  


He gestured to the mirror, and Stiles turned his head slowly. His eyes were human again. 

  
  


“Now, you and I are going downstairs for some coffee and you are going to explain to me what’s been going on.” 

  
  


“Dad you already know...”

  
  


“Don’t.” He pointed a stern finger at his son, effectively silencing him. “You haven’t told me everything. I know you’re suffering, Stiles. Just, let me help.”

  
  


Stiles stared at his dad’s wedding band.  _ He still wears it. Even after all these years.  _

  
  


“Just come downstairs and talk to me.”

  
  


“Yeah, yeah OK.” Stiles swallowed. There was a bad taste in his mouth, but a warmth in his chest.

  
  
  


_ Maybe it’s time. I can’t keep holding this shit in. Avoiding it isn’t helping and I obviously can’t handle it alone.  _ Allison’s brilliant smile flashed in his mind, dimples overtaking her cheeks. His heart ached.  _ I miss you. And I am so sorry, but it’s not over. I’m going to make this right. I promise you, Allison.  _

  
  


_ This isn’t over yet.  _

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“You feel any better kid?” His father sat down across from him and pushed the mug of coffee across the table.

  
  


“Yeah, thanks.” 

  
  


He pulled the mug to himself and wrapped his frozen fingers around the warm ceramic. He hummed as he sniffed the coffee. It was rich and sugarless just how he liked it. Coffee had always calmed his nerves and focused his mind in a way his Adderall never could. 

  
  


“Does Scott know about the dreams?”

  
  


Stiles sipped his coffee and shook his head, “No. Please, dad don’t tell him OK? He has enough to worry about already. I don’t want to bother him.”

  
  


“Stiles, look you two need each other right now. You have to tell him. I know you said you don’t want to see a therapist…”

  
  


“You know I can’t.”

  
  


“Just because you can’t tell them everything doesn’t mean you can’t talk to them. You are in mourning and I can only help you with this so much. You need someone who can help you process your grief.”

“You know how to do that, you can tell me.” Stiles set the mug down harder than he meant too and his father cringed, “Sorry.” 

  
  


“When your mother died I didn’t - I didn’t do things like I should have. I should have gone to a therapist and talked it out, instead I fell into a bottle and it took years to pull myself out of it again. I won’t let you do the same Stiles.” 

  
  


Stiles stared at the table solemnly and nodded, “OK, I’ll talk to someone.”

  
  


“Start with your best friend. He’s in mourning too and he needs you Stiles.”

  
  


“Yeah OK, I know and I will tell him. Tomorrow though, I’m - I need to do some stuff tonight.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Stiles slinked off to the stairs with his warm mug of fresh coffee and took his time up the stairs. His father’s worried eyes haunted him as he stalked up the cold hardwood steps. 

  
  


He needed something, something to occupy his mind for the night. Thoughts of the void eyes haunted his waking thoughts again, and he remembered Deaton’s words. After Allison died, right after the funeral Stiles woke up from a nightmare about being swallowed by darkness. Deaton told him he would suffer from symptoms, night terrors being the biggest. They were a result of the possession, that it was one of many side effects he’d endure. The Nogitsune had been a part of him before he was destroyed and he’d left a piece of himself within Stiles.

“As if I didn’t have enough shit to worry about.” Stiles whispered to himself, taking a seat at his computer and turning it on. He sipped his coffee down and hummed as it warmed his throat.

  
  


He’d only had one other side effect so far. His arm, the spot where Scott bit the Nogitsune. Sometimes it hurt, the phantom bite would ache, especially when it rained. May has multiple nights of bitter cold and storming rain and it freaked Stiles out at first, but two months and a lot of rainy nights later and he was used to it already. 

  
  


He opened some tabs on his desktop and started scouring the net about possession again. His Google searches spiraled down and down until he reached resurrection methods. He hadn’t practiced any magic since the Nogitsune was defeated, but he felt the power under his skin, a crackling of energy always lingering in him. Sometimes he wondered if the nightmares would stop, if the guilt would leave him if he just did it. 

  
  


If he brought her back.

  
  


He wanted nothing more than to do it. And there are so many reasons,  _ good _ reasons, other than his debilitating guilt. She died too young, it wasn’t her time, Lydia needed her best friend back, Scott and Isaac needed their girlfriend, Argent needed his daughter. 

  
  


Stiles missed her too, all the time. He missed the nights when Scott was working on his lacrosse training with Isaac, or training with the pack and Allison would come over and they’d study. He’d teach her Spanish and she’d teach him French. They learned Latin together, which was a pain in the ass, but totally worth it because she was there with him. It was fun and easy to focus with her around. They’d snack during breaks and rehash their most embarrassing class moments, their least favorite teachers. They’d talk about Scott and Isaac and Lydia, and even Derek. 

  
  


He could talk about his feelings for Derek with her, and he realized now that he could never do that with anyone else. She understood their relationship, after all, her and Derek’s family’s had a hell of a history. They’d watch movies together every weekend, sometimes with Lydia, sometimes just the two of them. He got her addicted to Star Wars, and she got him equally addicted to Pretty Little Liars. She wasn’t just Scott and Isaac’s badass girlfriend, she was his friend. Scott was his brother and Alli, she was his sister. And she was dead.

  
  


“Ugh.” Stiles threw up his hands and let out a massive sighed. 

He dropped his arms to cross behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He had the power, magically he knew he could do it, but other than the incredibly rare and lucky resurrection that Peter successfully pulled off, he knew no one that had fully brought back a person. The only reason I pulled it off was because of Lydia. She had the power to reach over to the afterlife. Of course doing that for Peter was not her choice, and royally fucked her up.

  
  


Still. He knew, if he asked, she’d do it.

  
  


On top of the rarity issue, Stiles hadn’t found a single method of resurrection that didn’t involve sacrifice. All the methods, the viable ones that he’d made sure were legitimate, say that someone else has to die or someone’s soul has to be sold to a demon or another type of soul eater. He’d do it, he’d give his soul, his life to bring her back, the only thing that stops him is - well, everyone. 

  
  


Scott, his dad, Lydia, Derek.

  
  


None of them would ever forgive him, and if they knew what he was planning? They’d never let him do it. Stiles let his chair turn back and forth slowly, his bare feet tickling the carpet as they dangled over the floor. He brought his arms over his head and left them crossed, covering his eyes. 

_ What should I do? _

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Stiles walked down the street, the plastic bag full of junk food knocking against his knee as he stalked along the sidewalk. The air was warmer than it had been in months but he still felt a chill every now and then. The cars racing by were louder than they should be and he realized a headache was probably coming on. He ducked into an alleyway and decided to cut through there on the way home. 

  
  


He didn’t drive to the store, he told his dad he needed the exercise, but he just wanted the air. Thinking was getting him into trouble, but he had to figure this out. He had to find a way to bring her back. A chill passed over him and he cursed under his breath. Another chill and he tightened his jacket over his chest with his free hand.

  
  


_ Stiles.  _

  
  


He stopped so suddenly he nearly fell face first into the asphalt. He must be hallucinating again, because he could have sworn he heard…

  
  


_ STILES. _

  
  


“No, that’s not possible.“ He swore he heard her voice in his head. “Allison.” 

  
  


Stiles' mouth dropped open and he stared at the ground a few feet from him. Bare feet stood firmly before him and he didn't want to look up, afraid that this is another waking dream. 

  
  


“Stiles.”

  
  


“No. I’m just - I’m just dreaming.” 

  
  


He took a breath and lifted his cold fingers, the air ruffled the plastic bag and he shivered. He counted,  _ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Five fingers, OK, now the other hand _ . 

  
  


He dropped the arm holding the grocery bag at his side and pulled his other hand far enough from his chest that he could extend his fingers.  _ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and, that’s it. I’m not dreaming? _

  
  


“Stiles, I don’t have a lot of time.” The voice was soft, then loud. Like an echo.

  
  


“You can’t be…” He looked up and he saw her. “Allison.”

  
  


Her hair was down, her bangs shaped around her perfect jaw. Her cheeks are rosy and her makeup is natural, subtle and beautiful just how Lydia intended. She looked the same as the day they buried her.

  
  


“Stil- please I don’t have a- of ti-me.” Her voice was breaking up like they were talking over a bad phone connection. 

  
  


“Allison, you’re really here?”

“Stiles...something’s -ing.” Her face was scared, but determined.

  
  


“What? I didn’t...I don’t understand.”

  
  


“Something is com-ng, coming. Something danger - you have to tell every - you have to - she’s - ing back!”

  
  


“Who’s coming?” She flickered, “Allison!”

  
  


“Be care - tell Lydia you saw me. She’s trying to b - ing me back. Talk to her. Stil - Stiles, I’m out o - ime.” Her face softened and she smiled, her figure flickers from view and then returned, but her body kept flickering, like static. “Stiles, I miss - ou.” 

  
  


Her figure flickered out of sight again and Stiles waited, but she didn’t come back. He stared at the empty alleyway for what seemed like hours. 

  
  


“Allison.” His fingers went numb and the plastic bag slipped from his fingers. He flinched as everything tumbled to the ground, “She’s still here.” 

  
  
  


“Lydia!“ Stiles barreled through the unlocked front door of the Martin house and fumbled himself into the foyer. He looked up to see Lydia’s mom staring at him with confusion, “Hey - uh hey Miss Martin, hi, how are you?” 

“I’m fine? It’s good to see you Stiles, though you could have knocked.”

  
  


“Oh uh, sorry.”

  
  


“Are you here to see Lydia?”

  
  


“Yeah, yes.” He straightened himself against a head rush, “She’s upstairs right?”

  
  


He walks toward the elegant grand staircase and barely heard Miss Martin’s reply as he was already halfway to Lydia’s room. 

  
  


_ I have to tell her. _

  
  


“Lydia! Lydia?”

  
  


He was yelling down the bright halls of her house as he raced to her room. He didn't knock, and Lydia was not happy about that, but his wild eyes and labored breaths turned her annoyance into worry in seconds. 

  
  


“What’s wrong?” She stood and inched toward him.

  
  


“She’s still here.”

Lydia shook her head, “What - who?”

  
  


“Allison. She’s still here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you were worried, I have four chapters finished after this one. So if you are loving it, don't you worry it will be finished. 
> 
> PTSD about in this one, but also a hint of hope. Keep reading, and don't forget to comment your thoughts below!


	4. BLACK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody grabbed his chest and he heard his name being called. But it was far away. People were shouting, he was being moved he could feel it but he couldn't see. So far away. He was in darkness again and he could hear somebody laughing. He felt the Earth moving beneath him and he shouted but no sound came from his throat. He screamed, and he could feel his jaw drop open, his face tighten, his eyes widen, but no sound came out. 
> 
> Am I dead? 

“You don’t look very surprised.” Stiles said as Lydia sat back down at her desk.

  
  


She had an ancient looking book in her hand, “I’m not. I mean, I wasn’t sure if it was actually her or if I was just imagining it. But the more I see her the surer I am.”

  
  


“What? You’ve not only seen her but you’ve seen her more than once?” Stiles flailed his arms, “What the fuck Lydia? Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone?” 

  
  


“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but, you were dealing with a lot, Stiles. I thought it’d be better if I waited to tell you until I was sure she wasn’t a hallucination, or some trickster creature playing with my mind.”

  
  


He sighed. “Fine, alright, that’s fair. Not really but I would have done the same thing.” 

  
  


Lydia eyed him with a look of sorrow. It was midday and she was dressed in casual clothes and light makeup, her hair in a messy up do.  _ At least she retired her sweatpants last week. That’s a good sign. _

  
  


“Allison told me that you’re trying to bring her back.”

  
  


Lydia spun around in her chair, “What, you spoke to her? You didn’t say that before!” Lydia gripped the back of her chair.

  
  


“Yeah, she uh, she showed up when I was walking home,” He waved a casual hand and took a seat on Lydia’s loveseat, “She tried to tell me something, tried to warn me. She said something was coming, that  _ she _ was coming back.”

“Who? Allison?”

  
  


“No, I don’t know. It was hard to understand her, like…”

  
  


“Like you were on a cell phone and she was going through a tunnel?”

  
  


“Yeah,  _ exactly _ .” Stiles eyes narrowed, “So you’ve talked to her too?”

  
  


“Yeah.” She whispered looking back down at the giant book on her lap. 

  
  


“What is that?” He pointed to the tome.

  
  


“Useless.” She snapped it closed.

  
  


“OK, but you’re trying to bring her back right?”

  
  


“That depends.” She didn’t look at him.

  
  


“On?”

  
  


“If you’re going to try and stop me.” 

  
  


“So it’s a yes if I agree to help and a no if I want to stop you?”

  
  


“Pretty much.”

  
  


“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve been trying to bring her back too then.”

  
  


“What...she turned around again, “you, oh.”

  
  


“Yeah.” 

  
  


“Well, everything I’ve found says that it’s impossible unless we use a soul to do it.” She turned toward her desk and started typing on her laptop.

  
  


“Right, kill someone in her place or make a deal with the devil, so to speak.”

  
  


“Exactly.”

  
  


“What about the bestiary?”

  
  


“The Argent’s bestiary?” Lydia glanced over her shoulder.

  
  


“I thought you had it?”

“I have  _ parts _ , but not everything and what I have is useless, at least in regards to resurrection. I did find a note in one of the margins that mentioned a death omen, or something similar might have the power to track and collect a soul, but, as for a method of returning it to the body without some kind of deal or sacrifice? Nothing.”

  
  


Stiles huffed out a breath. The room was scented with the smell of roses and perfume. It was bright and cheerful. The illusion of happiness. 

  
  


“Deaton might know something.”

  
  


Lydia hummed agreement. “I didn’t feel comfortable going to him alone, but you train with him...maybe we could go together?”

  
  


“The only thing that worries me is that he might tell Scott what we’re doing. Other than that it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

  
  


“It’s the best plan right now. Scott - what do we tell him?”

  
  


“Nothing.”

  
  


Lydia stopped typing, “Stiles we can’t keep it from him.” She tilted her head, “Not forever anyway.”

  
  


“I know, right now we do, but as soon as we think we have a viable way to bring her back, then we bring him in on it. Not a word until then.” 

“Alright, fine.” She started typing and clicking again, “We don’t tell Scott.”

  
  


* * *

Lydia tossed and turned. The nights hadn’t been kind to her for months. She didn’t like to sleep. She used to, but now Allison was all she saw. Her dead body, blood soaking the concrete, and Scott, crying. Every night she woke up crying and she was tired of it all. 

  
  


Tonight however, she didn’t close her eyes only to see that courtyard. Tonight she dreamed of the forest. 

  
  


A great tree, massive and looming over the others. A clearing surrounded it, as if the other trees grew far away to give the great tree a wide berth. Something about it was so familiar. The scene tores away, and the tree was gone, nothing left but a huge stump. The daylight was bright and warm, so inviting. She walked forward, her bare feet tiptoeing through the dew covered grass. She made her way to the base and reached forward gingerly to stroke the top of the stump. 

  
  


_ The Nemeton.  _

  
  


A gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes and suddenly it was night again. She pulled her hair out of the way and she was standing far away from the great stump. The Nemeton in the distance and a shadowy figure standing before it. She couldn’t see them, their features obscured by the night and the dark hood they wore cloaked their face.

She watched in curiosity as the being raised their arms over their head slowly, their cloak covering only to their hips, a sheer colorless shawl. The cloth droops under their arms like see-through wings as black as the night sky. She heard them mumbling, as the wind picked up around them the mysterious person’s voice rose. Chanting; some kind of ritual. 

  
  


A shiver ran through Lydia and she wrapped her cold fingers around herself. The figure chanted louder and Lydia recognized some of the Latin, but it was too hard to hear over the whipping wind. It was just a breeze a few seconds ago, but now the wind was kicking up into a fierce storm. Lightning cracked in the sky, and Lydia covered her ears in pain. The wind was so loud she couldn't hear herself yelling. Her eyes watered with the pressure of it and it started to rain.

  
  


She had to see what the person was doing. She kept her eyes open.

  
  


The Nemeton was once a great source of power according to Deaton. And Jennifer Blake used it to bring herself back from the brink of death once, and that was when it was a broken stump.  _ If it could do that for her, maybe it could do the same for Allison? _

  
  


She pushed into the roaring wind. It took every ounce of strength to move five feet forward. Then she dropped to the ground. Her legs were so tired and shaky. She looked up and tried to focus, the water from the hurricane rain slashing her face ruthlessly. The stranger was screaming over the wind, but Lydia still couldn’t make out the words, or even if it was a man or a woman. Their voice echoed and quaked around her. She saw shadows storming from the base of the tree and someone screamed in pain. 

  
  


Lydia tried to lean forward, but ended up falling into the grass.  _ It’s no use, I can’t get closer.  _

  
  


Someone screamed again. There are three distinct voices. One yelled for help, the others screamed in agony. She heard a roar, like a wolf howling in pain. She knew the sound well. Lydia watched in horror as a hand popped out of the dirt a few feet from her. Then another, then another. The hands gripped, and grabbed the Earth, digging themselves out of their graves. The dirt around them collapsed in on itself and she could feel the ground below her shake. 

She raised her head and saw the standing figure drop their arms and the lighting crack in the sky right above them. The hands were still tugging the Earth, trying to pull themselves free of its determined grasp when the dark figure turned. She couldn’t see their face, but those eyes, pale and blind. She knew them well, because she’d seen those pearly white voids in the mirror. 

  
  


She heard a growl and she was awake. She screamed and her mother rushed into her room.

  
  


“Lydia?” 

  
  


“I’m OK mom, just-”

  
  


“Was it a nightmare, or a premonition?” She asked.

  
  


It still blew her mind, and she was still bitter about it if she’s honest with herself, that her mom had kept that secret for so long. Her mother was a banshee and her mother before her and so on. Nearly every woman in their family had the gift, and the curse. For the last two months, since Allison died, her mother had been teaching her how to use her powers. What it would entail and all she could do. 

  
  


Her mother walked toward the bed and sat near Lydia’s side. 

  
  


“Premonition. I think.” Lydia answered.

  
  


“What was it?”

  
  


“Some kind of ritual, like a resurrection maybe.”

  
  


“Where?”

  
  


“The Nemeton.”

  
  


“Oh no...that’s no good.” Her mother looked away.

  
  


“I figured. But you seem to know something. Mom?” She asked, but her mother got up and started leaving. “Mom!”

  
  


“I need to speak with someone Lydia, please, stay away from that place. Lydia, do as I ask for once?” Her mother’s tone was pleading as she left the room. 

  
  


Lydia shook her head in confusion and got out of bed. She went for her phone and started getting dressed. She had to know what’s happening. She was tired of just finding the bodies. Maybe, for once, she could stop the bad thing from happening, before it happened.

  
  


She grabbed her car keys and stood by the window. She texted Stiles and didn't get a response so she pulled open the window and ducked out and onto the roof. She was getting answers. If it was the last thing she did.

* * *

  
  
  


“Lydia?” Stiles’ voice cracked over the phone line and Lydia breathed out.

“Oh, good you’re awake.” She sighed. “I need you to meet me somewhere.” 

  
  


“I was not awake. Lydia - it’s 3am? Shit.” He sighed. “Uh, what’s going on, are you OK?” 

  
  


“Not yet. I think I’ve found out something, but I can’t talk now. We have to meet.”

  
  


“OK OK, where?” He sounded like he was getting up.

  
  


“The preserve. There’s that back parking lot, the narrow one near the cliffs off the main road...”

  
  


“Yeah I know the one.” She heard the metal clanking of keys. “I’ll be there in like, ten minutes.” 

  
  


“Good.” She sighed. “Thank you, Stiles.”

  
  


“Yeah, see you soon.” He hung up.

  
  


She got out of the car and braced herself against a cold breeze.  _ At least it’s warmer than last month.  _ Summer was on its way, and she was unbelievably glad. Soon she wouldn’t have to worry about school. She didn’t worry about classes, she could soar through them in her sleep, it was the people. Everyday, she saw their sympathy, their pity, and heard them talk about her and her friends. At least now she was going to find out the truth, at least there was hope, no matter how slim. 

  
  


_ At least I don’t have to do this alone.  _

* * *

  
  
  
Stiles pulled up to the preserve parking lot. It was two streets from the highway leading out of Beacon Hills. He looked around and saw Lydia's car; she was rooting around in the trunk. He turned over the engine, the headlights turned off and he looked forward into utter darkness.

  
  


His fingers shook around his keys and he breathed in and out slowly. He opened the jeep's driver's side door and cringed as the rusted door creaked open. He shut it quietly after hopping out and a cold wind made him shiver, but he straightened and headed for Lydia's car.

  
  


“Hey.”

  
  


Lydia raised her head. She looks disheveled like she just woke up, “You’re here.”

  
  


“Of course I am.” Stiles smiled as she handed him a flashlight.

  
  


“Come on, this way.” She walked away from him and toward the dark path leading into the forest's depths.

  
  


“Where are we going?”

  
  


“The Nemeton.”

“What- Lydia why?” He jogs to keep up with her. 

  
  


“I saw something in a dream, some kind of ritual.”

  
  


“OK and?”

  
  


“And I think we should check it out.”

  
  


“Lydia, have you even thought this through?”

  
  


“What’s to think through? I saw some man or woman, or thing, raise the dead. People came out of the ground. Whoever was doing that needs to be stopped, and whatever they did, maybe, we can use that to bring back Allison.”

  
  


“Yeah OK uh let’s see, good plan, except it could be a trap. Something like the Nogitsune could be waiting for us? We don’t know who or what is buried there. Seriously, stop - hey!” 

  
  


He grabbed her shoulder and she spins around, “I need this! I need to stop seeing her dead body in my dreams, I want to stop crying and waking up screaming, I need to stop - all of it. I can’t do it…I can’t live without her, I just can’t.” 

  
  


Lydia’s eyes welled with tears but she bit them back. A slight breeze whipped away the loose strands of hair from her face and pulled at her rigid body. Stiles stared into her eyes for a moment.

“Then let’s go, let’s find out what’s happening.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Lydia trudged before him, and he stalked after her. He had to hold the flashlight over the ground to watch his footing but Lydia didn't seem to have that problem. She seemed to know exactly where she’s going. Stiles hopped forward a bit and got near her front to look at her.

  
  


“Hey Lydia are you…” His breath catched. Her eyes were pure white, glassed over like she was blind. “Lydia?” 

  
  


She started walking again. He yelled her name, but she wouldn’t stop. 

  
  


He thought about stopping her, shaking her out of it, but something in him told him to follow her. She knew where to go, and her visions were never wrong. Something very wrong was happening, or about to happen and Lydia seemed to be the only person with any clue. 

  
  


So he ran to catch up, and followed her silently. 

  
  


The darkness weaved around them, twilight blues stretched through the forest and moonlight shone above to crack and weave around the trees and branches. Eventually they stopped in a clearing, wide and forbidding. There were six dead trees around a giant stump.  _ But - it’s more than a stump. _

  
  


“The Nemeton it’s…” Stiles stared in wonder.

  
  


“It’s growing.” Lydia finished.  _ It’s the first thing she’s said in fifteen minutes.  _

  
  


He inched toward her and his phone buzzed wildly. He nearly jumped out of his skin and Lydia shuddered visibly. Her scared eyes turned on him and he pulled the cell from his jacket pocket. 

  
  


**_To_ ** _ : Stiles _

**_From_ ** _ : Scotty _

_ Stiles are you OK? _

  
  


Lydia moved closer to him and read over his shoulder. “If you don’t answer he’ll come find us.” 

  
  


**_To_ ** _ : Scotty _

**_From_ ** _ : Stiles _

_ Yeah, I’m fine. We can talk later. I have some stuff to tell you.  _

  
  


**_To_ ** _ : Stiles _

**_From_ ** _ : Scotty _

_ Are you sure? I can come over now. _

  
  


**_To_ ** _ : Scotty _

**_From_ ** _ : Stiles _

_ Go to bed Scott. _

Stiles shook his head. Lydia turns around and headed toward the Nemeton. He started to follow her when his phone buzzed again.

  
  


**_To_ ** _ : Stiles _

**_From_ ** _ : Scotty _

_ I can come over dude. Are you sure you’re OK? The pack bonds are telling me you’re worried and I just want to make sure you are OK _

  
  


“Oh my God.” 

  
  


“He’s being persistent.”

  
  


“More than usual.” Stiles replied with a huff, his fingers gliding over the keypad.

  
  


**_To_ ** _ : Scotty _

**_From_ ** _ : Stiles _

_ GO TO BED SCOTT! _

  
  


He stood still and glared at this screen for a few minutes.  _ Nothing. Good. _

  
  


“Alright.” Stiles looked up and saw Lydia right next to the tree. “Woah. It’s as tall as you now.”

  
  


“Yeah - it’s definitely growing.”

  
  


“But, it can’t.” Stiles stalked through the dewy grass and fallen branches to stop next to Lydia. “Deaton said it can’t be revived.” 

  
  


Lydia shrugged a shoulder. “He’s been wrong before.” 

  
  


Stiles shook his head. He shivered and his fingers tingled, a prickling in his nail beds, lightning in his veins. He looked at the Nemeton, then turned around partially to stare at the ground.

  
  


“Stiles?” 

  
  


“There’s magic here.”

  
  


“Well, it is the source of power in Beacon Hills.” Lydia rolled her eyes. 

  
  


“No, I mean yeah, but, it’s different.” He moved a few steps away and looked around. He ended up circling the same spot a few times. “There’s something here.”

  
  


“That’s…” 

  
  


He met her eyes. “What?”

  
  


“That’s where the hands came up. The people under the ground. They were buried right where you’re standing.”

  
  


“They came out  _ right _ here? OK so, whoever they are, someone is going to bring them back. But why?”

  
  


“But more importantly, how?” 

  
  


“You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking. Are you?” Stiles asked.

  
  


“If we figure out who it was, maybe we can steal their method.”

  
  


“And…”

  
  


“Bring Allison back?” 

  
  


Stiles and Lydia spun toward the voice and watched as a tall figure emerged from the shadowy tree line. 

  
  


“Isaac? What the hell are you doing here?” Stiles asked.

  
  


“Me?” Isaac pointed to himself. “I’d ask you two the same thing, but you already told me.”

  
  


“Hey we didn’t...” Stiles started.

“I’m in.” 

  
  


Wind blew some old dried up leaves over Stiles shoes and he couldn’t think. Lydia got there first. 

  
  


“What?” 

  
  


“I want to help. I want her back.” Stiles closed his gaping mouth and his jaw tightened. “Whatever you need me to do.” 

  
  


“Alright, but rule one is you can’t tell Scott.” When Isaac didn’t protest he continued. “Not until we know for sure what to do, if we can even do it at all. No Scott, not yet.” Isaac and Lydia nodded. “Alright. So - this tree, we have to figure this shit out.”

  
  


He trudged back toward the base of the massive oak and touched it. His fingers are on fire, his body shocked with a bolt of lightning..

  
  


“Stiles!” 

  
  


Thankfully he wasn’t _ literally _ on fire, but he was in pain. Convulsing, crippling to the touch. He fell to the ground, writhing. He could hear Lydia shouting his name in the distance,  _ she’s so far away _ . Then, Isaac’s hands were on him, holding him down. 

  
  


_ Am I having a seizure? _

  
  


Stiles smacked into the ground like a fish out of water, his body tightening until he was sure he'd snap.

Somebody grabbed his chest and he heard his name being called. But it was far away. People were shouting, he was being moved he could feel it but he couldn't see.  _ So far away. _ He was in darkness again and he could hear somebody laughing. He felt the Earth moving beneath him and he shouted but no sound came from his throat. He screamed, and he could feel his jaw drop open, his face tighten, his eyes widen, but no sound came out. 

_ Am I dead?  _

He relaxed his body.  _ Sorry Dad. Scott and Lydia, and Derek...I guess that's it. Maybe Allison will be waiting for me? Maybe, Mom will be there too.  _ Darkness surrounded him like a thick fog. He tried to move but it was useless. He was an apparition. His limbs flailed at the perfect dark but he was alone. Cold and useless. 

_ I'm dead. _


	5. THE FLY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott moved behind Stiles and began putting chains around him. Derek and Isaac helped, and in a matter of minutes Stiles was locked up tighter than a bank vault. If bank vaults were chained up with pure steel and silver infused chains and ropes coated in Letharia Vulpina.

His body was sore everywhere, like he'd been sleeping for years. His head rubbed against soft sheets and when he turned his head he felt a sudden shooting pain in his skull.

"Stiles?" Lydia's voice was quiet to his right. 

He tried to move again, but groaned in pain and dropped back to the bed. 

"Don't move, just lie still. Scott!" She shouted and it was like thunder rumbling through him. “Scott! Get up here!” 

"Scott?" Stiles whispered. His voice was ragged and he wondered if he’d been screaming again. 

He heard running somewhere far away. He turned his tired head left and saw bright light through the window. It was a small window with a nice view of a clearing down a hill.  _ Lydia’s house? _

"Stiles, oh thank God. Dude you scared me." Scott's hand was in his before he looked up "Are you feeling OK? I mean, I know you're in pain but, tell me you're OK." 

Stiles gripped Scott's hand, "Yeah dude. I'm OK."

He waited for Scott to ask him what happened and his mind began swimming with excuses or a good lie to tell. 

"Scott, uh." He swallowed an acidic taste in his mouth and looked away.

"I already know Stiles."

"What?" 

"Lydia and Isaac told me what happened, what you and Lydia are trying to do. It's stupid and dangerous, but I get it."

"Are you?" Stiles sat up a little. "Are you going to try to stop us?"

Lydia dropped her head behind them and Isaac leaned into the doorway.

"I thought at first that I would. You were unconscious and burnt and in pain, and I thought you were going to die. I was going to rush you to the hospital and then Lydia and Isaac told me what they saw." Scott's eyes darkened.

"What? That I got shocked by some old tree?" Stiles scoffed then processed what Scott just said. "Wait, you said I was burnt?" He looked down and patted his body, "I feel fine.”

"You healed." Isaac said from behind Scott.

"I what?"

"Lydia said, when you were seizing your eyes were  _ black _ ." Scott said. "Then you started healing. Your burns were bad Stiles and now, they're fine." 

"I don't know how." Stiles shook his head, “that shouldn’t be possible. I’m just a human.”

"I mean I'm pretty sure you would have told me if you knew otherwise." 

"How are you taking this so well?" Stiles turned to face him.

"Honestly, I'm just happy you're OK. I mean, alive at least. We can figure out the rest together." He gripped Stiles' hand again. "As a pack." 

Stiles couldn’t stop the tear from falling out of his eye, but he rubbed it away as soon as it fell, and laughed. 

"Alright, yeah."

"First things first." Lydia said. "We call Peter."

  
  


* * *

To say Stiles didn't like the plan was the biggest understatement of the year. But Scott and Lydia seemed to trust Peter now. As ridiculously stupid as Stiles found that, he trusted his friends. If Peter did live up to Stiles expectations and tried to kill them all, again, Stiles was ready to throw down. Specifically, he was ready to shoot the psycho wolf full of wolfsbane. 

They all stand outside the Hale loft and Stiles groaned. Scott shot him a knowing look and knocked lightly, knowing Peter would hear him. The older wolf must have told them to enter because Scott pulled open the loft's big rusty door. Lydia and Isaac trailed in behind Scott, and Stiles was last. He was still tired from being electrocuted. He'd contemplate how a tree managed to shoot lightning into his body later. 

Peter descended the spiral stairs from the second floor and Stiles rolled his eyes. Dramatic entrances are one of the many annoyances Stiles suffered at Peter's hands.  _ Claws. Whatever. _

"Good to see you all. I understand you are all here for resurrection tips?" 

Stiles stilled. "You told him?  _ Him?"  _

"Lydia did, and he, well he can help us Stiles." Scott said.

"Of course you came to me. The Druid would hardly help you violate the laws of his precious nature to bring back Ms. Argent. Dear Allison, well she didn't deserve her fate, and I'd be happy to help you correct what happened to her." 

Stiles' eyes narrowed at the wolf. He was perfectly serene, a toothless smile on his face.  _ He's cunning and manipulative and he's killed so many people.  _ Stiles thought _ , surely they can't believe he wants to help. He wants something. _

"Thanks Peter." 

Stiles stared at Scott in shock; Isaac settles easily on the couch to his left and Lydia makes herself at home next to him.

"You are fucking kidding me."

"We are not trusting him no." Stiles finished with a harsh tone. 

"Stiles.”

"No don't even. Did you forget, did all of you forget what he's  _ done _ ? How many people have he killed? What he did to Lydia?" 

“Don’t bring me into this Stiles. You’re not yelling because of what Peter did to me, you’re angry because of what he did to you.”

Stiles turned a glare on Lydia, “What?”

“He outsmarted you, then almost killed you, more than once.” Lydia stood up then and walked toward Stiles, “if you really care about Allison, you’ll set aside your pride, and use his skills and knowledge to bring her back.”

The morning light rose in through the giant loft windows and spread out over the wood floors. Stiles stepped away from Lydia and watched the light scour over the dark wood. His head was still pounding and the light made his eyes water. His retinas were on fire and his hands started to tremble. He had to blink at least a dozen times to stop himself from crying. 

“What’s going on?” Derek’s voice surprised him.

The wolf moved behind Stiles, carrying what sounded like groceries. He turned around for a moment and the Alpha put down his bags and walked closer.

“Stiles?” He looked at Stiles’ hands then back up to his eyes, “Let me…”

He moved closer, and closer until he was a few inches from Stiles’ body. He felt heat coming off of Derek in waves, and wanted nothing more than to steal his warmth. His own cold body was tired and worn, the energy sapped from his bones. The fox was a cancer that had stolen what strength he had, and he felt like no matter what he did, he couldn’t get those parts of himself back.

Derek took his trembling hands and black veins began leaching from Stiles’s thin fingers, into Derek’s.

“Stiles, you have to get some rest. This isn’t good for your body.”

Stiles shrugged a shoulder and waited for Derek’s hands to leave his. Even after the black veins disappeared, the Alpha held on to him.

“Stiles.” Scott whispered his name, so gently it made Stiles want to fall apart right there.

“I can’t.” Scott moved toward him slowly, Stiles turned his body to crash into his brother’s chest, his other hand still cradled in Derek’s. 

“We can trust him Stiles. I know, I know you hate him. I get it I  _ do _ . But he’s not evil, he’s just...we’re all just broken inside.” 

“I’m sorry Scott.”

“It’s OK.” 

Stiles bit back his tears, not wanting to completely lose it in front of everyone. 

“I’m, I got it.”

Scott squeezed his body to his chest for a few minutes more and then let go. Stiles pulled back, wiping his face down roughly. His lean arms still shaking, his body still hot with anger and fear. 

“I won’t admit what they say.” He turned toward Peter, refusing to meet his eyes. “I won’t, trust you. But, for now, we can work together. I guess.” 

“Thank you Stiles.”

Stiles eyed him for a moment, then felt Derek let go of his hand. He missed the warmth already.

“What do you get out of this Peter?” Stiles asked, “at the very least, you owe me an answer.”

Peter let several minutes of dead silence hang before answering.

“Christophe.”

Everyone looked at him then, “What?” Stiles asked.

“If I save his daughter, perhaps, he will find a way to forgive me.”

“For killing Kate?” Isaac asked, “Pretty sure he’s not mad about that.”

“No, it’s, for another reason. Quite, personal.” Peter answered.

Just as Stiles was about to ask about a dozen more questions, Derek moved past him and Scott and straight for Peter. He stood next to him and faced the group. 

“Peter already told me about your plan. And it won’t work, not without a sacrifice.”

Stiles shook his head, “We were hoping for another option.”

“There is one.”

Scott stepped forward, “What is it?”

Peter turned away, “You won’t like it.”

“If it gives you more power, we’re not doing it.” Stiles said.

“Not me, Stiles. You.”

“What?”

Peter turned back to the group, “If I help you, you will require the power of the nogitsune.”

“That’s impossible, he’s dead.”

“Not only that, but it took all of us to even stop him the first time…” Scott said.

“Allison died, to help us do it.” Lydia said.

“Yes. But what I am suggesting would not revive the original spirit of the fox, but instead, create a new creature of chaos.”

Stiles blinked, “You mean...you want to turn me into a fox spirit? Not just, be possessed, but actually become one?”

Peter nodded once, “It would be dangerous, and very permanent. But once you possess that power, you can bring her back.”

“That doesn’t make sense to me.” Isaac said. “I thought the fox was just a spirit, not a creature like us.” He gestures to Peter and himself.

“The fox was killed many times, and was disembodied long ago. Once he reverted to his natural state, which he was attempting to do with Stiles, he would have been more solidary, like us. More like a werecreature, than a spirit.”

“So he started out, like us then?” Scott shook his head, “This is crazy.”

“Won’t turning Stiles into a fox, make him...evil?” Isaac asked.

“Evil is a point of view.” Lydia said.

“What?” Scott asked, “That’s, weird coming from you Lydia.”

“Despite what the rest of you may think, the world isn’t black and white. Peter proves that. He did terrible things, so did Stiles, when he was possessed. Even Derek has.” She crossed her legs, “And the Argents? Specifically those no longer with us, did horrific things, that they thought were right, justified. But to us, they were evil and irredeemable. Yet, here we are, with Peter of all people. Working with him, believing he’s changed. I don’t think he’s good, but few people are.”

“So, you think, if I do this. Then it’s up to me to decide what I do with that power?” Stiles said, “That I can choose to use it for good, or bad?”

Lydia nodded, “Of course. It’s just like magic, power isn’t inherently good or evil. It’s the person that wields it that decides that.”

A few moments of silence passed and Stiles wondered if he could be trusted with that kind of power. Before, when the fox did those evil things, he blamed the fox. Obviously he wasn’t in control of his body, he couldn’t stop the fox, and he fought him, and lost. But after he was gone, he had to face the truth. Eventually, Stiles enjoyed the power the fox gave him. Enjoyed being smarter than everyone, stronger and faster, able to control such a force as the Oni. Eventually he would have been stronger than everyone.

He missed it.

And he hated himself for that.

Could he really go back, get the power he had before, and be trusted with it?

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice brought him back to the room.

Everyone is watching me. Waiting for an answer.

“I don’t...I don’t know.”

“You need time to think it through. That’s for the best. Once you choose, you must remember, the transformation is permanent.” Peter said.

“Stiles.” Scott grabbed his shoulder, “Whatever you choose, I’m with you. Even if...even if we can’t bring her back.”

“No, Scott…”

“It’s OK. If it means, I don’t lose anyone else. Then I’ll have to learn to live without her.”

“No you won’t.” Stiles said.

“Stiles?”

“I’ll do it.” Stiles walked toward Peter, “I’m ready.”

  
  


* * *

He sighed and turned his head to stare out the loft windows. The light of the morning was already fading into late afternoon. He has been unconscious for almost a day. He felt a tingling in his fingers and wondered again if the Nemeton did something to him. What’s happened to him may be important, _ but right now Allison is my priority. _

Peter said it would take hours to prepare to turn him into a full werefox. He said specifically, the chances of him becoming a nogitsune was very high. That the nogitsune that possessed him was so connected to him, that it would be easy to turn him fully, but preparation was key. He didn’t give any details, but Derek assured him that he and Lydia would be with Peter the entire time.

His head stung and he sucked in a breath. The loft smelled like pine trees and old books. He looked around to see Derek moved his bedroom again, now it was in that space through the broken wall, near the old useless elevator. Stiles’ eyes trailed the floor and rested on the spot in front of the desk. The spot where Boyd died. 

_Why did all of this happen?_ _First Erica, then Boyd, and now Allison._ So many people had died, so many deaths that could have been stopped if only they were stronger, or smarter or worked together better. Sure, things had gotten better in the pack. _Derek and Scott are an epic alpha team;_ but there was still dissidence. There always would be, with so much bad blood between them, how could there not be tension? A lot of that was Peter’s fault, but almost equally as much Scott and Derek’s fault for being so stupid around each other for so long. 

The warmth of the day faded behind the buildings and a chill passed over Stiles. Now, Lydia knew how to kick ass, with and without her banshee powers. Stiles could defend himself, somewhat, but since the nogitsune left him, he hadn’t been able to do any stable magic. 

He looked at Isaac on the couch with Scott, and Cora across from them. He hadn’t told them about his magic issues. He could still perform, but he was unstable. He had burned himself so many times, broken a lot of lightbulbs and levitated himself into at least three of his bedroom walls. 

“Stiles?” Scott moved in next to him by the windows.

“I’m OK.”

He released a breath, “I’m not.”

Stiles looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“Just...you are becoming this fox. It feels like we’re moving backward. And I know you, I know you’re a good person who wants to help people. Who loves this pack, but, I also know there is a lot pain and rage inside you.”

Stiles looked out the windows, his jaw tight.

“I’m worried that you’ll pull away from us, when things get bad. Or when, you start to feel out of control. And Stiles, if we do this, you can’t be like that anymore.”

Scott turned toward him, “This pack is everything to me, but you are the only one that’s been there for me every step of the way since I was turned. Before that even. You’re my brother.” He touched Stiles’ shoulder, “You have to swear to me, that when you feel lost, or out of control, you’ll tell me. Or someone, anyone, just promise me you won’t push us away.”

Stiles took a deep breath.  _ This is it _ , he thought,  _ this is the precipice between change and guilt. I can decide to leave my guilt behind, and save Allison. Or, fail and die in all the ways that matter.  _

“I promise.”

* * *

Peter walked toward Stiles with a large duffle bag in his hand. Derek descended the stairs soon after, then Lydia. They all carried something different. Lydia had a large bowl with strange herbs, and Derek carried a length of rope and a chain.

“Should I be worried?” Scott asked.

Peter smirked, “Not at all.”

“So you’ve done this before?” Lydia asked.

“No.”

“What?” Scott leaned toward the former Alpha, “Peter, you told me this was safe.”

“It is. In fact most of the work will be on Stiles. This preparation is not for him. It’s for Allison.”

“The chains and rope are for Allison?”

Derek lifted a hand, the chains clanking against his leg, “No, these are for you. Peter said the change is a lot like when a wolf changes for the first time on a full moon.”

“Shit.” Isaac said. He moved toward Lydia and took the bowl from her, “Let me help.”

“Thank you Isaac.” She smiled. “What a gentleman.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Can everyone just shut up and move this party to the living room? I want to get this over with. Allison’s waiting.”

“Stiles…”

“Come on Scott.”

Derek brought over a chair, and the wolves moved the furniture back to the walls. Only a simple armless chair sat in the center of the room, facing the door. Peter placed the duffle bag by the door, and ushered Isaac to place the bowl of herbs there as well. 

“So this resurrection, after I become a fox…”

Peter walked toward Stiles and gestured toward the chair; Stiles took a seat. 

“Yes?”

“How will it work?”

“After you have the power of the fox, you will be able to use the soul energy he collected to bring Allison back. It’s the only way the toll can be paid.”

“You mean…” Scott walked toward Peter, “The people, the nogitsune killed, their souls will be…” He looked ill for a moment.

“Yes, the souls of those he murdered will pay the price to bring Allison back. She is of course among them, and thus Stiles will be able to return her soul as well.”

“How do you know all this?” Stiles asked.

“My sister had an emissary before Deaton that was well versed in the matters of the afterlife. Her name was Emaris, and she was what’s known as a raven.”

“Raven, you mean a wereraven?” Lydia asked. She moved toward Stiles and stood close enough that he could smell her citrus perfume.

“Exactly. You’ve heard of them?”

“When I was researching resurrection methods, the legend of them came up several times. They’re supposed to be a myth.”

“Well, they are quite rare. In fact Emaris told me that she believed she was the last of her kind.”

“She was replaced as emissary though, what happened to her?” Scott asked.

“She was killed by a fox.” Peter answered.

“They sure like to kill…” Stiles mumbled.

_ Will I? _

“Let’s get started.” Derek said from behind Stiles.

Scott moved behind Stiles and began putting chains around him. Derek and Isaac helped, and in a matter of minutes Stiles was locked up tighter than a bank vault. If bank vaults were chained up with pure steel and silver infused chains and ropes coated in Letharia Vulpina.

“Do you feel any pain from the Vulpina?” Peter asked seriously.

“No. And, is all this really necessary?”

“The transformation can get quite, violent.” Peter nodded, “So yes. Quite necessary.”

He moved out of Stiles line of sight, and he heard movement behind him. Lydia returned and stood in front of him with a large gun hovering over her thighs.

“Is that a tranq gun or are you just happy to see me?”

She rolled her eyes, “Stiles, shut up.”

“Vulpina right?”

She remarked the barrel, “Yes. Just an extra precaution.”

“Hey,” He called out and leaned his head back, “Peter, how do you know all this? You said you haven’t performed the ritual, so how do you know it’s going to need all this, “extra precaution”.”

“I have seen it performed.”

Peter returned to stand directly in front of Stiles, and he reeked of Vulpina. Stiles looked at him and his eyes wandered to the wolf’s hands. His claws were out, and dripping a clear liquid. 

“What are you gonna do if I get out of this chair, bitch slap me with Vulpina soaked claws?”

Peter smirked, “Yes.”

“Fuck me…” 

Derek moved in from the left, and Scott on his right. They also reeked of Letharia Vulpina.

“Lydia dear?”

Lydia leveled a glare at Peter that Stiles guessed could kill plants and possibly shock birds from the sky.

“Don’t ever call me that again. Unless you want a repeat of the time I beat you half to death with a pipe coated in wolfsbane.”

“No, though, that was fun.” Peter sassed, “I was going to suggest you and I take a few steps back.”

She did so, and Derek and Scott followed their lead. Isaac was somewhere behind Stiles.

“I’m ready.” He said, and everyone else nodded or hummed agreement.

“Stiles?” Scott asked.

“Let’s get this shit show on the road.”

Peter sighed, “Go ahead Cora.”

Stiles forgot she was there, and then remembered she had been gone for a good two hours and returned with a dirty bag and equally dirty clothes and face. Stiles didn’t wonder at the time what that was about, he was too preoccupied with wondering if this was a good idea.

She moved toward Stiles and stared at him.  _ Her face is as unreadable as ever _ . She had since cleaned up, and was wearing a dark tank top. She lifted a hand and Stiles’s heart skipped a beat. There was a dark brown ovular box in her hand, with a triskele carved in the lid.

“That’s…”

“I told you Stiles.” Peter said, “I told you, you wouldn't like it.”

“Stiles, it’s OK.” Scott said, “You can do this.”

“What exactly?” Stiles said a little too loudly.

“The fly is not the true fox, and he cannot possess you again, thanks to Deaton’s work.”

“That’s a relief. So uh, what the fuck is it doing here then?”

“You have to take the fly inside yourself, and absorb its power. Despite the...disgusting nature of that, it is the only way to become a nogitsune.”

“But it’s not the fox?”

“No. It is a vessel of dark power. The fox, was once a man, or maybe a kitsune, that took the power. Just as you will. The difference between you is a matter of will, and morality. The previous nogitsune did great evil, but you will not.”

“Oh God. That’s rich coming from you.” Stiles sighed loudly, “Fuck. Go, do it Cora. I’m ready.”

“You don’t look ready.” Cora drawled.

He glared at her, and grit his teeth, “I’m ready.”


	6. METAMORPHOSIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The buzzing of a million flies shook his entire body from the inside out. No matter how he screamed, no matter how he writhed to free himself from his binds, there was no escape. And soon he could no longer hear himself screaming.

Cora opened the urn slowly, and once it was open Stiles expected to start screaming. He expected pain and terror, and for everything Peter said to be wrong. That Void was still inside the fly, and that as soon as that urn opened, he would be taken over again. 

  
  


But nothing happened.

  
  


Cora shook the urn a few times, and the fly wriggled out; crawled to the lip of the urn and straight for Stiles’ face. Cora moved the urn closer and the fly’s pin-sized legs reached Stiles’ lips. He kept his mouth firmly closed, and pulled away.

  
  


“You dumbass. You have to let it inside for this shit to work.” Cora said.

  
  


A part of him wanted to give this up and say he couldn’t take it. The thought of that thing inside of him scared him senseless. But it wasn’t the thought of an insect living under his flesh that freaked him out. It was the power that it would bring, and what he would do with it. 

  
  


“Open your mouth.”

  
  


He shook his head, and just as she was reaching for his nose, the fly crawled into his nostril. He grunted and his mouth flew open to let out a shrill noise. He felt every step, every tickle of the fly’s wings as it ascended through his nose canal and headed for his brain. It took a detour behind his eye and he wanted to scream and run. But as he shook, the rattling of chains and bracing of ropes reminded him there was no way out of this now. 

  
  


The fly moved past his eye and onto the surface of his brain. He thought that would be the end of it, that it would sit there for the rest of time. Then he felt a sharp pain, and something wriggle and burrow into his brain.

  
  


That was when the screaming started. 

  
  


“Get it out!” 

  
  


He remembered Scott moving toward him, and hearing Peter shout at him. His eyes twitched back and forth, and Scott didn’t move. His face was pained, but he made no attempt to free Stiles. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he asked for this, but at that moment he wished he was dead. The pain continued, and he could swear there were a million flies under his flesh. Wings slapped his organs and beat his veins. 

  
  


The buzzing of a million flies shook his entire body from the inside out. No matter how he screamed, no matter how he writhed to free himself from his binds, there was no escape. And soon he could no longer hear himself screaming. 

  
  


After the fly had buried itself into his head, the pain ceased. The buzzing dulled to a quiet hum, and he closed his eyes. He felt sweat trickle down his face, and his fingers were warm and wet. 

  
  


“Why...do my hands...hurt?”

  
  


He looked down and saw blood under his nails, and blackened liquid on the floor beneath him. 

  
  


“At least, the pain...is gone.”

  
  


As the words left his mouth, an itching began in his nail beds. He couldn’t move his arms, the chains and ropes bound his limbs apart. The itch intensified, maybe because it was worsening, or because he knew he couldn’t scratch it. He didn’t know, or care. All he wanted was to rip his fingernails off.

  
  


Soon the itching lessened and a sharp pain stabbed each of his fingers. When he looked down to see his hand, there were claws where his fingernails were. 

  
  


“It’s working.” Peter said.

  
  


“That was in question?” Lydia shouted.

  
  


“Stiles, just breath OK. You’re shifting, I think. It’ll stop hurting soon.” Scott said.

  
  


Stiles wanted to scream again, but his throat was so raw, and he didn’t think he had the breath. He was far too focused on the painful sensations in his backside and jaw. 

  
  


He felt his jaws clench, and his teeth grind together. Blood soaked his tongue, and soon his new fangs cut straight through his lip. He opened his mouth wide, and closed his eyes. _ Just ride it out….ride it out.  _ His backside didn’t hurt anymore, but he felt something tickling his ass, something course, and long. He’d say it was a snake, but snakes don’t have fur last he checked.

  
  


“Do I...do I have a fucking tail?”

“Uh…” Isaac drawled from behind him, “Do you want the truth?”

  
  


“Oh God.” Stiles yelled.

  
  


His ears twitched, and the sides of his head felt like they were peeling from his skull. He grit his fangs against the pain and soon enough it was over. He ached everywhere, and if he turned his head too fast he felt a sharp pain in his ears. 

  
  


“Woah.” Cora whispered from nearly three feet away, and Stiles heard her.

  
  


“Say something...do that again.”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Turn around and whisper something.” 

  
  


Cora just raised a brow at him, but Scott turned around and whispered, “can you hear me Stiles?”

  
  


“I hear you Scottie.”

  
  


“Holy shit.” Isaac said, “It worked.”

  
  


“The ears and fangs weren’t enough to tell you that?” Stiles mocked, “And don’t forget the fucking tail. How do I have a tail?”

  
  


“Do you just have one?” Lydia asked.

  
  


“What?” Stiles turned his grit fangs on her.

  
  


“Well, the nogitsune before you had nine tails...so if you don’t have them, then the nogitsune that possessed you really is gone.”

  
  


“That’s great.” Scott said.

  
  


Stiles thought,  _ that is great _ . Stiles blinked, and he was shocked by how vivid everything was. Some colors weren’t right, but his vision was sharper, and he could see further than before. 

  
  


“So, can I get out of these chains and ropes now?”

  
  


Peter shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”

  
  


Scott rushed forward and began untying ropes, Derek and Isaac joined in and unlatched chains. As soon as they were done, Stiles leaped out of the chair and ended up closer to Lydia. At least five feet away.

  
  


“Woah!” Stiles yelled, “How the…”

  
  


“You can really jump.” Cora said.

  
  


“How do you feel?” Scott reached forward to touch his arm, and Stiles let him.

  
  


Black veins began leeching from their hands, and Scott frowned.

  
  


“I hoped...I thought the pain would go away.”

  
  


“I feel great Scott.”

  
  


“Really?”

  
  


“Yeah. Really strong, and awake.” Stiles tilted his head as a car passed on the street, “I can hear the cars downstairs. And the neighbors...all of them, on every floor.”

  
  


“We’ll teach you to shut it off, if it's too much.” Derek said. He moved toward Stiles and walked around him, sizing him up. “You look...so different.”

  
  


“So do you when you change.”

  
  


“Yeah.”

  
  


“It’s weird, seeing you like us. But, at the same time...it’s really cool.” Scott chuckled. “I can’t believe I said that, but, it’s true.”

  
  


“Does Kira change like this?” Stiles asked with a slight lisp, _ talking with fangs is not as easy as it looks _ .

  
  


“I’ve never seen it, if she does. But I know that my mom saw the nogitsune like that at the hospital.”

  
  


“He looked...exactly the same?” Stiles gestured to himself, tail and all.

  
  


“No, he was darker. Like the tail, she said it was black. So were his eyes.”

  
  


“Mine aren’t?”

  
  


Derek shook his head, “They are almost the same color as before, but they’re glowing.”

  
  


“And they're bigger. Like when I first became a wolf.” Scott said.

  
  


“How’s the tail?” Cora asked, “it looks...excited.”

  
  


“What?” Stiles turned his head and whipped around trying to get a look. “I can barely feel it.”

Cora laughed and Stiles stopped chasing his tail,  “Shut up.” He glared at her.

  
  


“Hm…”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“You look, kind of menacing like that.” She cocked her head, “You looked like a total wuss before, but now…”

  
  


“You know what Cora?”

  
  


“Hey.” Derek flicked his ear.

  
  


“What the...stop it.” Stiles laughed.

  
  


_ Laughed. _

  
  


Not because Derek was hilarious, but because he was free. Sure he had a fly buried in his brain, but he would have to try very hard not to think about that. Stiles watched the pack laugh, and smile, for the first time in months. Since before Allison died. And Stiles felt his own face crack into his smile, because the nogitsune was gone, and he was free.

_ But Allison, is still dead. _

  
  


“OK, as fun as all this shit was. We still have work to do.”

  
  


“Allison.” Lydia whispered. “Are you sure you’re up for it so soon?”

  
  


Stiles turned around and winced in pain. He felt his tail pull itself back into his body, and his claws do the same. His ears twitched again, and his mouth ached. He rolled his tongue across his teeth, and felt no sharp ends, just human shaped teeth. 

  
  


He huffed and looked at her, “Yes.”

  
  


* * *

Deaton was out of town.  _ Again.  _

Stiles would make sure to think of some really creative high damage insults to inflict on the old Druid when he got back. For now, he silently groaned, still in some pain from his first shift.  _ I am still not used to that...any of this. Maybe I never will be. _

He pulled open the clinic door. He had driven with Scott to the vet’s, just Scott. Everyone else had supplies to gather, and if Stiles was honest about it, he was exhausted and embarrassed by the events of the night. Not only did he lose his shit in front of everyone about Peter, but he also screamed and cried for a good twenty minutes while the fly was burrowing into his head. 

“You know they don’t care. What happened back there, the pack. You’ve seen every one of us at our worst and didn’t judge us.”

“What can you read minds now?”

He smirked, "No, I just know you too well."

Scott led Stiles into the clinic and stopped at the gate. “Shit.”

“I forgot about the gate too.”

Stiles reached forward and his fingers hit an invisible wall. “Damn. Well, I guess that means I really am a creature of the night then.”

“You doubted it?” Scott smirked.

“Boys.”

Stiles spun around and saw Argent standing in the doorway. “What the…”

“Mr. Argent.” Scott said. “Thank you for coming.”

“You invited him?”

“Well, all this concerns him. In a huge way, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah but…”

“Looks like you need my help.” He pointed to the gate.

“You really OK with this? I mean, Scott told you what we’re doing right?”

“Yes.” He stared at the floor, then looked Stiles in the eye. “He also told me what you did tonight.”

“Oh…” Stiles was prepared for a big threat, something that would chill his bones. After everything Void had done, especially to Argent, it made sense that he would be worried. 

“Thank you.”

Stiles looked back up and felt his jaw drop, “What - for what?”

“You risked your life, your sanity, just to get the power to bring her back.” He moved past the teens and opened the gate, “So thank you.”

He tried to push past the new wave of emotions and focus on the task at hand. He needed to increase the wards around the clinic and start practicing again. He’d been performing a little magic here and there over the months, badly. That liquid Deaton gave him had helped to revitalize him, but it was still going to be difficult. Even with fox powers, which, God only knew what kind of weird magic that would be. 

Stiles pushed down the doubts flooding his mind, “Ignis.” 

_ Nothing happened. Nothing? _

He breathed in and out for a moment and tried it again. And again, and again.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked. 

“I don’t think I can use flames anymore.”

“That makes sense.” Argent said. Stiles turned toward him with a raised brow. “Foxes can do elemental magic, but only if they are born to it. The nogitsune was born of shadows and chaos.”

“Meaning...that’s my magic now?” Stiles shook his head. “How am I supposed to bring her back if I have no idea what my magic even is?”

“Peter said he knew. He’s heading here now with the others.” Scott said.

Cars rolled up outside and Argent moved for the door. Peter, Isaac, Derek, Cora and Lydia filed into the back room. Argent was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Argent?” Scott asked.

“He said he had to get something from his car.” Lydia said.

When he returned he was carrying a large duffle bag with both hands, close to his chest.

“Is that...” Stiles whispered.

Argent moved for the center table and the group parted for him. He placed the duffle on the table as slowly and delicately as he had ever seen Argent do, anything before. It rattled as the bones within settled on the cold exam table. 

“Allison.” Stiles said.

Scott reached Stiles’ side of the table and placed a hand on top of the bag. He blinked slowly, his face soft and full of hope.

“We can do this Stiles.” 

He looked up to see Isaac’s slouchy pose across the table. Hovering near where he imagined Allison’s skull would be. Lydia stood just next to Isaac, Cora next to her, in the corner with her brother, and uncle. And lastly Argent stood right next to Isaac, closest to Allison’s skull.

“OK let’s just - let’s get to work.” Scott said, a tremor in his voice.

Stiles looked at Peter, “Did you get everything we needed?” 

“Yes.” He lifted a bag and placed it on the counter behind Stiles and Scott. “Be careful opening it.”

“Stiles.” Scott shook his head. “Lydia? Are you OK?” He moved toward her and she looked up in shock.

“Of course I am. I’m just a little nervous. I’ll be fine.” She raised her head, “Now, let’s get this going. I can’t stand waiting around anymore.”

Stiles moved for the bag on the counter and began unzipping it. H e was shocked by its contents. Of course, he knew what was required for this ritual, he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around Peter and Derek doing what they had to to get the ingredients. He had no idea how important Allison was to Derek, or how Argent must be to Peter.

He pulled free a small paper bag and then a larger one and put them on the counter. They were soaked in fresh blood. 

“Where did you get them?” Argent asked.

“A gangster downtown.” Peter said shortly, “He was in the process of raping a poor woman. He will not be missed.”

Argent sighed, then took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He moved toward the bag to help Stiles remove items, and he watched the man as he hardened himself. Stiles felt a flicker of doubt in himself, but Argent’s cold determination killed all reservations he once had. He had been planning and dreaming of this night for two months, and it was finally time to bring her back. He would let nothing stop him now.

Argent turned back to the table, and looked at Stiles.

“Let’s get to work.” 

  
  



	7. RISEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She desperately wanted to sink into the ground. For the nightmare to finally end. But she knew, deep down, that it was all real. And that she could never go back to who she was before. The darkness had taken hold, and even if this was real, even if she was free, the shadows would never let her go. 

Cora, Isaac and Derek kept an eye out in the waiting room, out of the way of the work but still close enough they could help if it was needed. Stiles wouldn’t say it, but he was so glad it was not just him and Lydia right now. His whole pack was there, all of them united to bring Alli back. 

  
  


He scanned the room, watching Scott as he exited the store room with a box of bandages and threads. He placed it on the table next to the long bag. Stiles grit his teeth, knowing the bag was carrying Allison’s decomposing body. Scott and Lydia had already collected vials of blood from everyone, except Peter and Cora since they barely knew Allison. Derek volunteered his blood, which surprised everyone since he and Allison never got along. 

  
  


_ At least, not until the end. _ The last few months before her death they had spent quite a lot of time together. Actually bonded, mostly because Isaac was living with Derek again, and Scott and the alpha were forging an alliance. After their packs merged they all spent time at Derek’s loft, or even the Argent house in their down time. 

  
  


Peter entered the room again after getting the last of the vials from the car. 

  
  


“Stiles, I’ll mix the blood. I just need those two vials behind you.” Lydia, remarked, grabbing a large silver mixing bowl. 

Stiles did as she said. After she got them in her perfectly manicured nails, she opened each vial and started pouring them into the bowl. The blood pooled together in a thick soup; the smell of iron was thick in the air. 

  
  


“That’s rank.” Cora, shouted from the waiting room.

  
  


“Yep.” Scott, sniffed.

  
  


“OK, now we need a part of Alli.” Stiles, eyed Mr. Argent. “Uh, you said you had something?” 

  
  


He dug in his pocket and pulled out a lock of hair wrapped with a silver ribbon. “Here.” 

  
  


Stiles didn’t react fast enough for Lydia, she grabbed it gently from Argent’s fingers and placed it on top of the blood pool. The blood sucked in the hair like quick sand. Stiles shook his head and pulled a generous bundle of purple-white flowers toward him, after adding the anemone into the red soup he grit his teeth and sucked in a long breath. 

  
  


“Et miscere formare.” He chanted quietly. But nothing happened. 

  
  


Lydia tapped his shoulder, “Try again.”

  
  


He huffed, “Et miscere formare.” 

  
  


He steadied himself, planted his feet then waved his hand over the bowl. “Et miscere formare.” 

  
  


“What the hell?” Stiles slammed a fist against the counter.

  
  


“Hey, it’s OK. I can do this part.”

  
  


“No- Lydia you know what this means. If I can’t do latin incantations it means…”

  
  


“You aren’t human anymore Stiles.”

  
  


He looked at her in shock. He knew what she said was true, but the implications still hadn’t settled in his brain.  _ I am not a human being. _

  
  


“It just means that your magic doesn’t work the same way.” She looked at him, here eyes soft, “It’s a good thing in some ways. It could mean you no longer need rituals and incantations. You can just think it, and it happens. Like with Kira.”

  
  


“Lydia is of course correct.” Peter remarked from the hallway. He was hovering in the doorway, near Argent. And the older hunter sneered, but didn’t move away. “You are much more powerful now than you ever could have been before Stiles.”

  
  


Lydia gently moved him aside and took Stiles’ place over the bowl, “Et miscere formare.”

  
  


He felt a shock in the air, like an electric shock along the edge of his spine. Not painful, more like a tickle of energy. Then the smell of blood became stronger.

“Et miscere formare.” She chanted again, louder.

  
  


“Et miscere formare.” 

  
  


Isaac leaned in, fascination written on his soft features. Lydia nodded when the pool stopped swirling the mixture of gore and flowers. 

  
  


“Next.” She looked at Scott, who had been leaning on the counter near the mini fridge for a few minutes, where they had stored the heart. Lydia’s stern expression pushed him to his feet.

  
  


“Right, the heart.” Scott pulled the bag from the fridge.

  
  


“Is a human heart really necessary?” Argent’s face was hard and questioning. 

  
  


“Yes,” Peter, remarked from the waiting room. He moved near Argent, only a few inches from his shoulder. “If you really want her to stay alive, she’ll need a heart.” 

  
  


“But we don’t need any other organs?” Scott handed the bag to Lydia with a sour expression. 

  
  


Stiles stared at the red and pink organ as Lydia pulled it from the bag with glove covered hands. She placed it in the pool of blood and looked at Stiles expectantly. He took another look at Argent, who seemed less concerned about the next part and more worried about how close Peter was to his body.

  
  


“We have to use a fresh heart to finish this. A heart has great power during a necromantic ritual.” Stiles stated.

  
  


“It is extremely powerful in blood rituals.” Lydia nodded. “Even more so than menstrual blood.” 

  
  


Scott cringed, “Ew  _ Lydia _ .” 

  
  


“What? Witches use it all the time for their spells. It increases the power of the spell, a known fact.” She insisted and Stiles knew she’s right, “Stiles, tell him. I know you’ve used it…”

  
  


“Can we talk about my gorey secrets later please?” 

  
  


Lydia huffed then took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and raised her hands over the bowl again. 

  
  


“Et ducatur a potentiae. Cordis organum sanguinem. Essentia. Et ducatur a potentiae. Comminuet autem misces. Miscere essentia.”

  
  


“What’s she saying?” Isaac, whispered at Stiles, but Lydia hushed him.

  
  


“OK.” Lydia dropped her hands and Stiles could feel the remnants of magic in the air. The tingle of electricity up his spine, and a heat at his fingertips. “Now the wraps. Anyone not willing to touch her body should get out now.” 

  
  
  


* * *

If Stiles wasn’t so focused, he’d be marveling at the amazing teamwork going on. Everyone had their jackets off, sleeves rolled up, wrapping Allison’s decomposing body in linen. It was wet and cold and completely vomit worthy, but it was also Allison.  _ They’d do anything for her. When they do this, when she comes back I’ll be able to tell her they all set aside their differences for her. They all agreed the world wasn’t right, without her in it.  _ When all was said and done, Alli’s entire body looked mummified. 

  
  


“Now the real fun.” Lydia rolled her eyes. 

  
  


“Why what now?” Scott met his brother’s eyes with confusion.

  
  


“Now we paint her, with blood and stuff.” Stiles said.

  
  


“That’s gross.” Isaac, said tonelessly. “Let’s do it.” 

  
  


Stiles smirked at the sick grin that formed on Isaacs face. He should spend more time with the weirdo after this. Stiles shook his head.  _ Yeah right. _

  
  


Stiles picked up a rough mop-type paintbrush and fanned out the duplicates to everyone else. Lydia, Isaac, Scott and Mr. Argent all took one, while Cora, Peter and Derek hovered in the entryway, watching the pack all dip their brushes into the silver bowl of gore. They soaked their brushes and waited for Lydia to go first. She started in on Allison’s thigh, and everyone joined in.

  
  


Stiles started to paint the closest part of her to his body, her left arm. He started at the shoulder and worked his way down. He had to lift her limp arm up by the forearm and lean down to get the brush under. He lathered the reddish liquid up under her armpit, then down the sides, then on top. He worked slow and made sure to get every inch wet. 

  
  


Argent really took his time, in fact, he was the last to touch her. Scott was second, he started working his way up from her toes. He was gentle and calm, his face fully serene. Lydia looked disgusted and sad, but as soon as her brush got going on Allison’s hips her face relaxed. Isaac worked on her other arm, following exactly what Stiles was doing, and Argent placed his palm on the top of Allison’s head. Her brittle hair and decomposing face hidden in tan bandages. He started to lather her neck and moved upward toward his own palm. He was delicate with his strokes and his face was passive, but his eyes betrayed him again. They were full of unshed tears.

  
  


After Isaac and Stiles finished with her arms they both worked on her chest and ribs. Scott got her private areas and Lydia helped by finishing her hips and moving up her stomach to help the other two. Argent finished her head and neck, then closed the boys’ work gap by doing her clavicles and shoulders. Then they all dropped their brushes and turned her over, Derek and Cora moved in to hold down the tarp Scott and Lydia had placed on the table before they started. 

  
  


After that Stiles watched them slink away, Derek’s face was soft and sad, his eyes full of grief when they met Stiles’. He saw movement behind and watched Peter wander in. Eyes locked on Argents back. The beta’s arms were crossed loosely, his face unreadable. Derek ushered Cora to a seat across the room, and the alpha leaned against the wall next to her with Peter to his right.

  
  


After the merging of the packs they had all become something like family. As Stiles watched Derek’s somber eyes wander over Allison’s mummified form he knew; the wolves felt that they had lost her too. 

  
  


He turned his tired eyes back to the task. They finished her backside much faster than her other side. Afterward Stiles told them to turn her back over. Derek and Cora held the tarp again, which was sticky with blood.

  
  


“Alright. What’s next?” Scott, asked the room.

  
  


“My part.” Stiles looked at Allison for a few seconds then met Lydia’s eyes. “If I can do it.”

  
  


“I spoke with Noshiko earlier today.” Lydia confessed, “and told her what happened at the loft, what we had to do.”

  
  


“What did she say, anything useful?” Derek asked.

  
  


“The way she explained it, what Stiles has to do is a lot like creating barriers with human magic. It requires focus, and a lot of thought, but other than that, he wouldn’t need words or a ritual to perform the transfer.”

  
  


“Transfer of what?” Cora asked, and Stiles realized she hadn’t been there during the explanation.

  
  


“Allison’s soul.” Stiles said. “Apparently, whenever Void killed someone, either directly or indirectly, he would swallow their souls into himself. Don’t ask where, I have no idea how it worked, but Allison should still be inside the fly. That’s where Void’s dark powers came from.”

  
  


“Think of it like a vast space with no light or walls, and no escape.” Peter said. “This is how the raven explained it. A sort of purgatory within a body, that imprisons souls.”

  
  


“How did she know that?’ Scott asked.

  
  


“Ravens consume souls, just like nogitsune.” He answered.

  
  


“So, that’s what that feeling was…” Stiles hummed suddenly horrified. 

  
  


There was always a small piece of him, inside the back of his mind when Void was possessing him that screamed. Sometimes it was quiet and more like a buzzing, other times it felt like something was clawing at his head and screaming. He always assumed it was from the possession, that it was the fox making him feel that way. That idea was cemented when Void split from him, and the sensations stopped. But now he realized, those were souls, trapped inside him. 

  
  


“It’s time Stiles.” Lydia said.

  
  


“Right.” He took a deep breath and then released. Lydia stepped back, and the rest of them followed her lead. 

  
  


Stiles cleared his throat a few times, then focused. He looked inside himself, thought of the fly, and the screams. For several minutes he thought he wouldn't be able to do it. Again, his magic was failing him. But soon, a buzzing began to sound deep inside his chest. It rose and rose until it was a painful cacophony of screaming and yelling. Several people inside of his chest raged and rattled his bones, screaming for escape. 

  
  


“I hear them…”

  
  


“Void killed a lot of people, how will he find Allison?” Derek asked.

  
  


“Focus Stiles,” Lydia whispered next to him, “think about Allison. Only Allison. Drown out the other voices and focus on finding her.”

  
  


He closed his eyes tighter, squeezed until he had a headache. He felt like he was swimming through a sea of tangled, wriggling bodies. They latched on to him, and he had to fight so hard to push them aside and keep moving. It was dark, cold, and endless.

  
  


_ Stiles… _

  
  


_ “Allison?”  _ He whispered and he didn’t know if it came out of his mouth or was only within his mind, but regardless, he had found her.

  
  


“Stiles?” Allison said.

  
  


He moved past another thick tangle of bodies and finally saw her. It was dim, and she was hard to spot, but the more he closed in on her, the brighter it became. 

  
  


“Allison, take my hand!”

  
  


He felt his arm move toward her, and she reached, and reached. The more he moved toward her the harder the swell of bodies moved to stop him. An arm wrapped around his neck and he gagged, but didn’t stop. He had to reach her. If he just touched her, it would be over. He didn’t know how he knew that, but it was the only thing that kept him moving. 

  
  


“Take my hand!”

She reached out, and he leapt forward and grabbed her hand under his. She began to cry, and the light that shone above them became brighter and brighter until he couldn’t see anything. 

  
  


When he opened his eyes, he was in the clinic’s backroom, with Scott staring into his eyes. He was still standing, though he felt like he was buried in quicksand. 

  
  


“Stiles...did it work?” Scott asked.

  
  


“Yeah...I think so. I uh -” He swallowed, an acidic taste in the back of his throat, “I grabbed her hand, and then, I was here again.”

  
  


“So, what now?” Isaac asked.

  
  


Peter moved away from the table and leaned against the back wall again, “We wait.” 

  
  
  


* * *

**Seven hours later...**

* * *

“Scott!”

  
  


Lydia shouted and Scott jumped from the chair next to Stiles so fast that when he looked up, he was nowhere to be seen. Stiles moved slower, despite the urgency of Lydia’s tone. His body was a wreck, and his mind was in tatters. It felt as though half his body was asleep, and only his legs were awake enough to drag the rest of him into the back room. 

  
  


When he did reach the back room, Allison’s body was twitching. 

  
  


“Shit...it worked.”

  
  


A breath groaned from the mummified body, and soon it began clawing at its face.

  
  


“She can’t breath, help me.”

  
  


Lydia grabbed a pair of surgical scissors and began cutting away fabric, but the moment Isaac rushed in, he and Scott tore at the bandages with their claws. Argent was in soon after, eyes wild, and his gun in his hand. 

  
  


They managed to pull her head from the wraps, and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. She looked the same. She was rosy cheeked, with warm brown eyes and clear skin. Sure she was paler than usual, but she had all her teeth, and no bald spots or decaying flesh. So he counted that as a win. 

  
  


She surged up through the grabbing hands around her, and started yelling. Her voice was raw, and her eyes were as wide as possible, fear and confusion written on her face. She leapt from the table and scrambled into a corner of the room. Her chest was heaving and her legs were trembling so badly, she fell to the ground.

  
  


Scott moved toward her and she screamed. He stopped dead in his tracks, and motioned to the others to stay back.

  
  


“She’s in shock.”

  
  


“Keep still and quiet Scott.” Argent said.

  
  


Scott looked at Argent, “Maybe you should try?” He gestured to Allison.

  
  


She hugged the wall, her short fingernails scratching the wall as she tried to make herself as small as possible. 

  
  


“Allison?” Her father moved towards her slowly. He put his gun on the table and moved in with his hands raised. “It’s me, your dad. Can you hear me?”

  
  


She shook visibly, and whimpered. “No…” She whispered, “Stay away...you’re not…”

  
  


“What...what is it?”

  
  


“You’re not real…” She cried and Stiles watched Argent shudder. “You’re not real…” She whispered and just as Argent was about to step toward her she leapt clean over the table like a freaking trackstar and dashed out of the room. 

  
  


Glass shattered, and alarm sounded, and she was gone.

  
  


* * *

Run. That was all she could think to do. Keep running, through the dark, trees smacking her body and blood trickling down her arms. It wasn’t real. Just another trick. It had to be.

  
  


After everything she had seen in the darkness, she couldn’t believe she was free. She wouldn’t give into the thought, she was too afraid of the realization. The pain, and the tricks that the fox pulled. She wanted to fight, but how could she fight a God?

  
  


“Allison!”

  
  


She listened to the false voice behind her, and didn’t stop. She ran and ran, and suddenly found herself outside of the dark woods, and in a courtyard made of concrete.

  
  


“Not here…” 

  
  


She felt the cold whip against her body, straight through the soft linen. She shivered but kept walking. She stopped near a dark blood stain, shaped like a teardrop with droplets leading toward a large gate. She felt the hairs on her neck stand up, and her knees trembled. She fell to her knees and reached her hand toward the dried blood.

  
  


“My blood…”

  
  


“Allison.” A breathless voice spoke behind her.

  
  


Soon more followed, and she could feel many eyes trained on her back. Her body was on fire, sharp and ready for another run. And she knew then, that she could run for miles without tiring. She looked down at her arm and saw the wounds given to her by the trees were no longer bleeding, and the broken skin was stitching itself closed. Her fingers trailed the blood, then she moved to sit on the spot with the circle of blood. She brought her knees to her chest and cradled them with both arms.

  
  


“This is where I died.”

  
  


“Allison…” Scott stood next to her, his eyes filled with tears.

  
  


She desperately wanted to sink into the ground. For the nightmare to finally end. But she knew, deep down, that it was all real. And that she could never go back to who she was before. The darkness had taken hold, and even if this was real, even if she was free, the shadows would never let her go. 

  
  


“Allison?” A short girl with a tangle of strawberry blonde hair moved towards her, her hand reaching for Allison’s knee.

  
  


She looked up quickly, and the girl pulled back.

  
  


“It’s me…” She let a tear fall from her eye, and Allison ached somewhere deep in her bones.

  
  


“Lydia.” Tears streamed from her eyes, “He said he killed you.”

  
  


Lydia shook her head, “No...we’re all here. We’re all here for you.”

  
  


“It’s not a dream is it?” Lydia shook her head, “I really died?”

  
  


Scott covered his mouth for a second, then dropped to his knee in front of her. He reached forward, a kind smile on his face.  _ God, how I missed those dimples.  _ He left his hand in the air, inches from her knee. She touched his fingers, and he was warm, and alive. And then she couldn’t wait anymore. She leapt into his arms, her head buried in the crook of his neck.

  
  


She felt the tears falling, but she laughed instead of sobbing. Breathless then, she hugged his back, pulled him so tight he struggled to breath. She let go only enough that he could breath, but nothing in the world could drag her away from his chest. She freed one arm from Scott and grabbed Lydia. Her friend let out a sob and joined in on the embrace. 

  
  


She heard others approach, and soon she was engulfed in many warm and crying bodies. She recognized Isaac, and smelled burnt wood, which had to be Derek. Then the fresh scent of pine,  _ Cora _ . 

  
  


“Stiles.” The group pulled back, and Allison looked around at each of them, but there was no sign of Stiles.

  
  


“Where?” She sniffled, and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. She looked around and just past Isaac was Stiles.

Her saviour. Her killer.

  
  


She hated seeing those eyes again, and also craved nothing more than to hug him, and thank him for getting her out of that black pit of souls. He must have understood, because he smiled, and cried silently, but made no moves toward her. She heard movement near the gate and turned in time to see her father. His jaw was clenched, and she saw water welling in his eyes. Isaac stood first and reached out his hand to help her to her feet. The others stood and parted. She wobbled toward him, each step stronger than the last. And once she was a foot away he surged forward and pulled her to his chest. 

  
  


“Dad…” She cried openly then, the last of her walls falling away, “Please don’t be a dream.” 

“I got you...I got you.” He shook, his voice raw as his tears hit the top of her head. 

  
  


“I got you.”


	8. HUNTRESS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was cold. She could feel again, and it was painful. The hammer became a jackhammer, buzzing against her brain relentlessly. As she pulled herself onto dirt and crackling leaves, she felt needles all over her body. 
> 
>   
> She screamed, and howled into the air. Then the needles dissipated. She felt exhaustion collapse against her like a body. Her skin crawled, now ripe with little bumps.

She walked slowly, her feet bare, and her body raked with fatigue. But there was something inside, deep, buried her chest. A slow building fire. _Is this what it feels like...to be alive again? Why does it hurt?_ She had no wounds, everything from her run had closed up and healed over. Her skin bared no scars, only dried blood. _But...why does it hurt?_

  
  


Something in the back of her head tingled. Like an ant crawling over her brain. Tiny feet wobbling along her gray matter. Somewhere deeper, close to the fire in her chest, was a strangling feeling, like someone had a hand around her heart.

_What is it?_

  
  


“Allison?” Lydia walked close at her side, keeping a distance enough not to scare Allison.

  
  


She watched her carefully, like she was waiting for Allison to disappear. She didn’t blame her, after all Allison was half-convinced all of this was still a dream. Even as her father opened the door to their house, and she walked into the foyer. They hadn’t been there in nearly a year. But her father still owned the house. The house her mother died in. The house of her grandfather and father tortured Boyd and Erica. The house her aunt had stayed in…

  
  


“Kate…” 

  
  


Something gripped her heart again, and she slapped a hand to her breasts. Kate’s face smiled in her memories and Allison yelped and fell to her knees. 

Her father was calling her name, but she wasn’t there to hear him. Kate was busy holding her shoulder, telling her to shoot. Too busy shooting Derek, and threatening Scott. Too busy having her throat ripped out by Peter.

  
  


Too busy being dead.

  
  


Flashes of the woods creeped through her mind. But it wasn’t like in the movies, it was a subtle thing. Dark and gritty, like she was walking through a dream. Allison opened her eyes wide and tall skinny pine trees were surrounding her. 

  
  


“What?”

  
  


She spun around and around, but no matter where she turned, Lydia and her father were nowhere to be found. She heard a scream and turned back around. The Nemeton was before her. A woman in black stood a few feet away, chanting. And another scream sounded as fingers breached the Earth, and someone crawled from the dirt. 

  
  


The crawling woman clawed at the Earth, gripping and scratching and pulling until her body was out of the hole. She cried out and held her head in pain. Allison watched the woman rise to her knees, and the dirt fell out of her long blonde hair. 

  
  


“ALLISON!”

She blinked and felt as though she had pulled her head out of water. She blinked a few more times and the head rush ceased. Her father was on his knees before her, both hands on her shoulders. Lydia stood behind him.

  
  


“I’m…I’m OK.”

  
  


“You said…” Lydia swallowed, “You said Kate.”

  
  


“She’s alive.”

  
  


Her father blinked rapidly, “That’s not possible.”

  
  


“She was brought back. I saw it. I don’t know how, or why. But I was there.”

  
  


“That’s what you told me…” Lydia whispered and Allison’s father turned toward her.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“When Allison kept appearing to me and Stiles, she would say that someone, a woman, was coming back.” Lydia shook her head, “You must have meant Kate.”

  
  


“But why, who the hell would bring her back?”

* * *

Stiles walked toward Derek, and handed him a shirt.

  
  


“Thanks.”

  
  


He smirked and walked toward his desk chair. “How did you manage to get so dirty?”

  
  


“I helped Scott, with the...body.” Derek said quietly as he tugged on one of Stiles’ clean t-shirts.

  
  


“Oh.” Stiles shook his head, “I can’t believe we pulled it off. I mean, it was touch and go for a minute but, we actually did it.”

  
  


“I knew you could.”

  
  


He turned toward the Alpha and narrowed his eyes, “You were so sure huh?”

  
  


“Yeah.” He nodded slowly and stared at Stiles.

  
  


He looked at home on the edge of the fox’s bed. 

  
  


“Do you feel alright?” Derek asked.

He thought for a moment, and watched Derek’s hazel eyes blink a few times.

  
  


“Yeah. For the first time in months.” He sighed. 

  
  


His nose twitched and he smelled something sweet and tangy. The scent filled his nostrils and suddenly his groin was on fire. _The hell?_

  
  


Derek looked down at himself with furrowed brows and then stood up. “I should go.”

  
  


“Why?”

  
  


Derek didn’t answer, his body moving for the window. He watched him fold and push himself out of Stiles’ window. 

  
  


He stilled and turned back, and Stiles was at the window in seconds, about to pull his ass back in and ask what the hell just happened. But when Derek turned his eyes were red. Stiles’ felt the burn in his body spread, all the way to his lips, and he stood dumbfounded as Derek’s Alpha eyes raked over his body.

  
  


“What...where are you going?”

  
  


Derek’s lips parted and Stiles was drawn to the movement. The world seemed to blur. Yes, chessy, but accurate. Because nothing else existed as far as Stiles was concerned. Or more aptly put, the fox. He felt a scratching sensation near his nail beds, and his tail tickled his ass. _What the hell is happening...why do I want to kiss him so badly?_

Derek’s eyes stared again at Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles’ lips parted. He felt his tongue wet his lips and realized his control was wanning. He wanted nothing more than to pull Derek into his room. The fox screamed under his flesh, and everything was a little too hot. He wanted to tear off his clothes and sprint into the night.

  
  


“I should go…” Derek whispered, but his voice was hoarse, his breath heady as he inched toward Stiles.

  
  


They were less than two inches from each other. Their hot breath joined, their scents rolled together. The fox begged, pulled at his skin, urging him forward another inch. 

  
  


“No.” Derek pulled away suddenly and Stiles felt the warmth leave him.

  
  


He looked at him with wide eyes and jumped off the roof without another word. 

  
  


“What the actual hell?” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Something weird just happened.”

  
  


“Weirder than what happened earlier tonight?” Scott asked.

  
  


“No...maybe? I don’t know.”

  
  


“Is Derek still there?”

  
  


“No and, look can you just come over?”

  
  


Wood creaked on the other end of the line, “Yeah. Can I bring Isaac?”

  
  


“Sure.”

  
  


“Be there in ten.” He hung up first.

  
  


Stiles breathed deep, then exhaled, and repeated until his hands stopped shaking. _As if tonight wasn’t enough of a mindfuck._ He felt a cool breeze enter his room from the open window and was brought straight back to Derek’s breath and lips inches from his own. _What was that? He wanted to kiss me? No, he left. He didn’t do it. Maybe it was some weird fox shit._

  
  


He rubbed a hand down his face, “As if I didn’t have enough to deal with already.”

  
  


“Hello Stiles.”

He pulled his hand away slowly and what he saw, he could not believe. A woman stood before him. Long blonde hair perfectly curled, her legs wrapped in tight blue jeans and her torso draped in a shiny leather jacket.

  
  


“Kate...Argent?”

  
  


“Been awhile huh?” She smirked haughtily, and Stiles watched her reach back and pull a gun from her belt. 

  
  


He dove sideways behind his bed as she opened fire. The gunfire ceased soon, and she moved around the bed and stood over him.

  
  


“That was a stupid move. Should have gone for the door.”

  
  


He scoffed, his heart a rabbit trying to escape his chest. He felt the fox tear at his flesh, and allowed a laugh to escape his throat. 

  
  


She canted her head, gun pointed at his chest. “I’m feeling left out here kid, what’s so funny?”

  
  


“I’m not a kid anymore.” He tore from the floor and leapt straight for her throat. 

  
  


She got off a shot, but he didn’t feel the bullet. His was too focused on tearing at her flesh. He tasted blood, his fangs sinking deep into her shoulder. She screamed and spun toward the bookshelf. She slammed him into the wood and broke several of the shelves, but he kept his teeth in her. She yelled and kept slamming him, then resorted to hitting him with her fists. She pummeled him so many times he lost count, but he wouldn't let go. He couldn’t let go. He tried to pull away, get away from the pain, but his body wouldn’t listen to him.

  
  


The fox was in control. 

  
  


He kept biting, and ripping, and the more she struggled, the deeper his teeth sank. She started shooting with her left hand, and he felt his arm seize out and grip her gun. He twisted her wrist until she screamed, and the gun clattered to the floor.

  
  


“Let go, you...ah!” She screamed again and Stiles felt bone under his fangs. He bit and bit, until something came up behind him.

  
  


His instincts screamed and he pulled away from the huntress, enough for her to leap away from him. She scrambled into the corner, and he spun around, fangs out, tail out, claws out. The fox yelped, and yipped inside him, ready for more blood. 

  
  


But instead of another threat, Scott stood in his doorway. 

  
  


“Move!” 

  
  


Stiles took the reins in time to throw himself toward the bed, and Scott leapt across the room to grab Kate and throw her through a window. She didn’t have time to react, and she fell headlong into the bushes below the second floor. Stiles’ newfound super hearing listened to her scramble from the ground and begin to run. 

Scott looked back at the door and Stiles heard Isaac say, “I’ll go after her.”

  
  


“Be careful!” Scott yelled after him.

  
  


Isaac dashed through the room and straight out of the open window. In a few seconds Stiles lost his super hearing, and his body crumbled onto the bed. He felt like all his energy was sapped in an instant. He could barely catch his breath. 

  
  


“Stiles? Are you OK? Did she hurt you?” 

  
  


Scott’s hands frantically searched Stiles for wounds, but Stiles shook his head.

  
  


“No...I did the most damage. Look, you have to help Isaac. She’s...she’s strong.”

  
  


“OK. Can you text the others? Tell them we will lead her towards Derek’s loft if we can?”

  
  


“Yeah.” He breathed the word, his chest still heaving.

  
  


Scott spared him another glance before tucking himself through the window and running off into the night. Stiles got up slowly, his body heavy as stone. He got his phone from the desk and began texting in the group chat. After he pressed send he looked around his room. Blood soaked the carpet near his book shelf. Most of the books were now littered over the rug, and the shelves were barely more than splinters. He sucked in a breath and released it slowly. It’d been several minutes since Scott left and he still felt like he was running. His pulse raced under his skin so hard he could barely sit still.

  
  


He shook, and looked down at his stomach. He remembered her shooting him there, but as he felt through the holes in his shirt, there was nothing there. No holes in his chest or abs, just drying blood. 

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Are you OK?” Derek came in through the same window he left not thirty minutes before, and Stiles stared at him in disbelief. 

  
  


“What, were you waiting around the corner?”

  
  


He stopped near Stiles and dropped to a knee before him. “No.”

  
  


Stiles tasted something bitter, acidic in the back of his throat. The fox twitched inside him. He was coiled somewhere in his chest, calmly sleeping. _I don’t know how I know that...but I feel him. Breathing, his heartbeat the same as mine._ Stiles felt the acid again and remembered Scott telling him what a lie felt like to a wolf.

  
  


“You just lied.”

  
  


Derek looked into his eyes, “What?”

“You lied. I can smell it, taste it.” He scoffed.

  
  


“I…” Derek looked away, “I was thinking about coming back.” He sighed, “then I heard the gunshots.”

  
  


“Why would you come back?” Stiles looked at Derek’s lips. “Unless…”

  
  


“I shouldn’t have left without explaining.” He sighed, “I’m not good at...feelings.”

  
  


Stiles laughed, “That’s an understatement. You are the King of non-communication.”

  
  


He glared at him then.

  
  


“It’s true and you fucking know it.” Stiles looked at his lips.

  
  


“I should go help the others.”

  
  


“Sure. Run away, again.”

  
  


Derek stopped, and touched Stiles’ knee. “I have to help them...it’s, her.”

  
  


“I know.”

  
  


Derek moved to stand and Stiles pushed his back to the floor.

  
  


“What Stiles?”

  
  


“Kiss me.”

  
  


Derek pulled back, “What?”

  
  


“Do it, now, before I change my mind.” Stiles moved forward and grabbed Derek with his blood hand. He gripped the soft fabric of his shirt in his fingers, and Derek let himself be pulled.

  
  


“This is...this is the fox.”

  
  


“Is it?”

  
  


“The pheromones…” Derek whispered and his breath tickled Stiles’ lips.

  
  


“You’re probably right.”

  
  


The wolf closed his eyes and mashed their lips together. Derek was needy, harsh as he nipped and licked at Stiles’s mouth. Stiles’ tongue fought past Derek’s lips and the groan that came out of Derek encouraged Stiles to pull the Alpha onto the bed on top of him. Derek put a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and the other propped on the bed. He attacked Stiles’ mouth like he didn’t need to breathe. Stiles groaned and sank deeper into the kiss. 

  
  


Derek pulled away for a moment and Stiles cursed, “What are you doing?”

  
  


“I can’t do this.”

  
  


Stiles grunted, “Why the hell not?”

  
  


“You just got attacked...the others are fighting.” He moved away and Stiles gripped his jacket sleeve, “Stiles.”

  
  


“I get it. I do.” He touched Derek’s hip with his other hand and felt the Alpha lean into the touch. “Just don’t be an idiot and pretend like this didn’t happen.”

  
  


Derek looked at him with a softness he had never seen from the man, “I have to go.”

“Derek. Say the words.” He slapped his shoulder, “Don’t be an asshole. I know that’s like asking you not to breathe, but…”

  
  


“Shut up.”

  
  


Stiles pulled Derek to his lips, “Make me.”

  
  


Derek breathed his air for a few seconds, then pulled away from the bed and moved for the window.

  
  


“Are you fucking serious?” 

  
  


Derek looked back and smirked, “I’ll be right back.”

  
  


Stiles watched the jerk jump out of the window again and wondered when this became his life. _Blood everywhere, and I can’t stop thinking about getting that grumpy son-of-a-bitch naked. Is this me, or the fox?_

  
  


He sighed, stood up, and walked toward his shelves. _Everyone better be alive_. He heard a ding, and looked for his phone. The text that came up said they didn’t catch up to the huntress. Stiles called Lydia.

  
  


“Everyone is fine.”

  
  


Stiles sighed, “Thank God.”

  
  


“Are you alright? Scott said there was a lot of blood in your room.”

  
  


“Yeah,” He looked at the holes in his shirt again, “I’m good. How’s Allison?”

  
  


“She’s resting. Apparently coming back from the dead is exhausting.”

“Huh, who would've thought?” 

  
  


Lydia was quiet for a second, “Do you want me to come over?”

  
  


“No, no. I’m good, really.” He sat on his bed again, Derek’s warmth still lingering on his sheets, “Stay with Allison.”

  
  


“Why did Kate go after you?” Lydia whispered, “Do you think it has to do with your transformation?”

  
  


“She didn’t know I was a fox.”

  
  


“Hm.” He could almost hear her gears turning, “Then, maybe it has to do with the woman that brought her back to life. She must have a connection to you.”

  
  


“I don’t know any witches. Nobody with that kind of juice, at least, besides you.” Stiles laid back on the bed, “Is there something you want to tell me Lydia?”

  
  


“Oh shut up.” 

  
  


“Hey, I’m finally getting back my sense of humor, that’s a good thing…”

  
  


“No, really shut up. I’m trying to think.” He listened to her heels as they paced along the hardwood, “I’ll call you later. Don’t stay up, get some rest.”

  
  


“Yes ma’am.”

  
  


She hung up and Stiles smiled. He found himself not caring too much about Kate. They’d get her. With Allison back, with all of them working together, she didn’t stand a chance. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“RISE, RISE!” 

  
  


Thunder cracked. Or she thought it was thunder. It sounded like a bomb going off in her head. She woke up in the dark, her body aching, and numb. Another crack of thunder and she felt a hammer in her head. Her body moved of its own accord, and she soon tasted dirt. 

  
  


_Where am I?_

  
  


She began to climb. 

  
  


Her body urged her up, pulled by invisible strings. She climbed through the dirt slowly, as her body woke. She gripped, and tugged at the loose Earth until she felt the cold air curl around her fingers. She was cold. She could feel again, and it was painful. The hammer became a jackhammer, buzzing against her brain relentlessly. As she pulled herself onto dirt and crackling leaves, she felt needles all over her body. 

  
  


She screamed, and howled into the air. Then the needles dissipated. She felt exhaustion collapse against her like a body. Her skin crawled, now ripe with little bumps.

  
  


“Hush now.” Someone touched her hair and she looked up from the dirt. “Hush.”

  
  


She felt herself being drawn from the ground and onto her knees. She heard a grunt and looked to her left to see a dark figure rising to his knees. He rubbed at his eyes then looked at her.

  
  


“Erica?”

  
  


“Boyd…”

  
  


“Where are we?”

  
  


Erica felt a chill pass through her as the cold wind howled through the trees. She looked back at the woman, her head full of ringing and so many questions. As she looked up, the woman pulled down her hood. A tangle of dark curls bounced to her chest, and her pink lips curled into a vicious smile. 

  
  


“Welcome back.”

  
  


She walked past Erica and Boyd and they turned to watch her. She flicked her wrists and both of them were pulled to their feet at once.

  
  


“Come now.” She ushered them, “We have so much to do.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note! I am having some serious wrist pain in my dominant wrist, it's been bothering me for weeks and it got excruciating last night. On my days off of work I will be heading to the Doctor's, but I thought I would tell you guys reading in case I can't write this week. Sorry if that's the case, but cross your fingers that this wrist thing isn't serious and I can get back to writing ASAP!
> 
> UPDATE - APRIL 9TH 2020  
> I still have wrist issues but I also have to grin and bear it because the doctor says not to risk a hospital visit. I do have three days off coming up and I will be writing! I am also slowly editing With The Wild Wolves Around You :)


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